


Stiles and the Beasts

by hardlynoticeable



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Multi, loosely based Beauty&theBeast!AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-29
Updated: 2014-03-30
Packaged: 2017-12-13 07:40:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 29
Words: 67,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/821723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hardlynoticeable/pseuds/hardlynoticeable
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Stiles' dad goes missing, Stiles heads into the woods to find him. He stumbles upon a hidden house filled with secrets, monsters, and magic. Will he be the one to save the monsters who saved his father or will he only bring them more trouble?</p><p>Set in an undefined period between 1800-1840 and definitely not written by a historian.</p><p>Betaed wonderfully by <a href="http://sourwolf-ships-sexiness.tumblr.com/">sourwolf-ships-sexiness</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Found

 

“You can’t just give up!” Stiles shouted after the deputy that had just bluntly informed him that they had ended the search for his father, the sheriff in their little town of Beacon Hills. His father, who had taken a ‘shortcut’ through the woods to go to the neighboring town a month ago and had never returned. His father, who had devoted his life to protecting Beacon Hills and its residents. His father, who was kind and generous to almost everyone. His father, who they apparently couldn’t keep looking for.

 

The deputy turned to cut him off as he tried to follow him into the jailhouse and said, “Stiles, I’m sorry, but we’ve been searching for a month. We’ve looked everywhere and… we just can’t keep it up anymore. We have to protect the town.”

 

Stiles clenched his jaw and turned back towards the door, blinking his eyes to fight back the tears that were threatening to spill out. “Fine; I’ll find him myself.”

 

“Stiles!” the deputy called after him but he was already off the porch and headed to his horse. He rode home as fast as Je would go, where his best friend, Allison Argent, was waiting for him on the steps that led inside.

 

She stood up as he approached and met him at the stables to hold the reins while he dismounted. “Well?” she prodded gently, “What’s going on with the search?”

 

He looked at her solemnly and could only shake his head, instead of repeating the deputy’s words. “I’m going into the woods myself. I can’t believe that he would just drop off the face of the earth like this. If he is… If he is dead, I’m at least going to bury him.”

 

Allison tied up Je and followed him into the house. He immediately started putting together a bag of supplies as she followed his every step. “What if the stories are true?” she asked as she pursued him around his home. “What if there really is a monster in the woods?”

 

He rolled his eyes. “There’s no monster in the woods, Allison. That’s just stories people make up to scare children so they won’t go into the woods alone. Because, you know, kids are apparently too stupid to realize that the wolves are reason enough to stay out of the woods.”

 

“Apparently you’re too stupid to realize wolves are reason enough to stay out of the woods,” she snapped at him in frustration. He ignored her and finished shoving food into his bag and located his long winter coat. He pulled it on and grabbed for his gloves and hat. Allison dug a scarf out of the trunk at the foot of his bed and wrapped it around his neck too forcefully. She sighed and gripped the lapels of his coat. “I’d go with you if I could. But if my dad even thought I was going to, he’d lock us both in the cellar to keep us from going.”

 

Stiles smiled. “I wouldn’t let you come anyway. Someone has to raise the alarm if I don’t come back. You’re the only person who would notice, especially since Danny hasn’t been coming around since Dad went missing.” Allison rolled her eyes, shook her head, and smiled slightly, just enough to show that she didn’t believe for one second that she’d be the only one. He smiled back. He was kidding. Danny liked his cooking too much to stay away. “If I don’t come back in one week, you’ll tell someone?”

 

She nodded. He pulled on his hat and she went with him to the horse. He put his packed bag in the saddlebag and pulled himself up. She untied the reins and handed them up. He held her hand for a moment and took a deep breath to gather his courage. Je shifted uncomfortably as two hens clucked and darted under her on their way out. “Would it be too much if I asked you to stop by and feed the animals?”

 

She smiled and shook her head. “Any eggs that are laid before you get back are mine.” She pulled a handkerchief out of her sleeve and tucked it into the pocket of his coat. “For luck.”

 

He grinned gratefully, even if it was just a silly sentiment, and let go of her. A nudge and gentle pull on the reins and they were off. He knew she watched him gallop into the woods and could almost feel the prayer she whispered wrap around him like a warm blanket, there to comfort him and make him feel protected. That’s all prayers were good for, after all.

 

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

 

He rode until night fell then found a place to make camp and settled in. He knew sleep wasn’t really an option, it was far too dangerous, but he could at least rest a little and let his horse have a break.

 

Somehow, he managed to be safe through the night and even get enough rest to continue on. He pulled himself onto his horse after tucking his blanket back in his saddlebag and nudged her forward as the sun began to peak through the trees. He was following the same tracks the original search party had and getting gradually deeper into the woods. He marked every third tree, so he would remember the path back to town, with smears of chalk. He couldn’t risk getting lost, after all, and if it came to a point where Allison would need to send a search party for him, they would be able to follow his path easily.

 

It was sunset yet again when he found the house.

 

It was at least three times the size of his house back in town but falling apart like no one had been living there for decades. One of the pillars was crumbling down to half the size of the others. Almost all the windows had broken out panes, and one entire side of the house looked like it had just barely survived a fire. Ivy crept up the bricking in unkempt vines. The stone fence was crumbling and the gate hung crookedly off its hinges. It was a disaster but it was a disaster with some protection from the elements.

 

Hopeful that he might get a little sleep in the old house, he dismounted and pushed the gate open gingerly. He led Je through the gate and looked around. As the gate squeaked shut behind him, he watched as twigs turned to well-tended rose bushes and weeds became vividly colored flowers, and together, they lined a perfect cobblestone path to the front steps of the now gorgeous mansion. The lawn became a lively green instead of brown and dead. The gate and fence were somehow repaired and almost like new.

 

He couldn’t believe his eyes. He tied Je to the gate and climbed the steps, running his fingers gently along the column that he knew he had just seen half destroyed. He hesitated, unsure whether or not he should knock. Eventually, he decided to do so. He listened closely and heard movement inside, but no one came to the door.

 

He glanced to the windows, flanking the door, and saw someone’s eyes disappear as the curtain fell back into place. He knocked on the door even harder and heard muffled voices on the other side. Finally, the door opened just enough for a girl of his age, to reveal to him her rather gorgeous, ginger curl framed face, and say, “Go away.”

 

She then proceeded to slam the heavy door in his face; Stiles flinched back just in time to avoid getting a bloody nose.

 

Then he knocked again, this time as hard as he could. She wrenched it open again and huffed at him. “Do you need me to say it slower? Go. A. Way. Now.”

 

She tried to shut the door but he jammed his foot in the opening. The red head let out an outraged scoff and pushed with all her might to try and close it. He bit his lip to endure the pain until she finally let out another frustrated noise and opened the door wider. “Were you dropped on your head? You’re not welcome here! How did you even find us?”

 

“I have no idea. I was just riding through. Listen, I’ll go away. I just need to ask you one question.” She eyed him suspiciously and watched his wild hand gestures with utter disdain then opened the door, but only enough to slide out and stand before him, hands folded over her chest. Her very lovely chest. In fact, now that he could see all of her, he could see that everything about her was lovely. Her curves, her dress (which was a lovely cream color that looked great on her and in the latest style of design), and her flawless pale skin. She wasn’t very tall but she was very intimidating. He smiled nervously and she rolled her eyes. He sighed and said, “Okay. Thanks. So, have you seen an older man riding through here on a black horse? He’s… He’s my height, short hair, no beard, no mustache, um, he actually looks kind of like me only older and… stuff. Um, he’s my dad. Have you seen him? He went missing about a month ago.”

 

Her entire body language changed for just a moment but it was a long enough moment that he knew she had definitely seen him and wasn’t sure whether to tell him or not. “Your dad?” she repeated, trying hard to appear emotionally detached. He nodded. She thought for a moment then opened the door again and said, “Wait here.”

 

He was left on the porch for what had to be at least half an hour. The sun finally disappeared and he was left standing in the dark, with only the glow through the windows to keep it from being pitch black, while he waited for the moon to finally work its way above the trees.

 

Finally, the door opened. The young lady came out with a candle in her hands, carefully shielding the flame from the wind. She left the door open behind herself and said, “Come in.”

 

He nodded and followed her inside nervously. “Um, my name is Stiles,” he offered hesitantly while she locked the door behind them.

 

She scoffed and turned to look at him. “Who names their child ‘Stiles’?”

 

He tried not to be too offended but couldn’t help the edge in his voice when he said, “It’s a shortened version of my last name. My real name is awful.” She seemed amused. He narrowed his eyes at her and said, “Who magically disguises their house to look like a disaster area?”

 

She tilted her head at him. “You went straight to magic, huh?”

 

“Yeah,” he replied, mimicking her earlier scoff. “It’s kind of obvious.” She eyed him thoughtfully then jerked her head to the right and started walking. He took that to mean he was supposed to follow. She led him from the entryway down a hall and through a large kitchen. When she stopped wordlessly in front of a doorway in the kitchen, he began to feel uncomfortable. It didn’t help that he knew he had just seen movement out of the corner of his eyes only to find that nothing was there whenever he looked.

 

“Where’s everyone else who lives here?” he asked nervously.

 

She feigned innocence on her face and in her voice as she said, “Who said anyone else lives here?”

 

“You did. You asked me how I found you and you said ‘us’ instead of ‘me’. And I heard you talking to someone,” he replied seriously. She ignored him and opened the door to reveal stairs heading downwards.

 

“Guests first,” she said with a sweeping gesture. He had a feeling refusing wasn’t going to do him much good, and so he started down the stairs.

 

At the bottom was a food cellar. And in the center of the little cellar was a cot with his father’s motionless body on it. He ran to him and immediately started shaking him and calling his name. He moaned softly and opened his eyes and Stiles knew tears of relief were streaking down his face and he just didn’t care. He was so happy to see him. His father muttered his name and cupped his face and Stiles just leaned over him to give him a hug and sob a joyful “I love you” into his neck.

 

“He’s too ill to be moved.” Stiles turned to look at the little ginger as she placed the candle on a large barrel and moved back to the stairs. “I’m afraid you’ll just have to stick around until he’s all better. I’m Lydia, by the way. Lydia Martin.”

 

And with that, she sauntered up the stairs and locked them in the cellar. He looked down at his dad in shock but he was already asleep again. “Did we just get taken prisoner?” he asked to the empty air and miscellaneous bottles. His dad snored in response.


	2. The Beasts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Betaed wonderfully by [sourwolf-ships-sexiness](http://sourwolf-ships-sexiness.tumblr.com/)

"I remember now."

 

Lydia placed the tray she was carrying carefully on the wine barrel that she seemed to like to use for a table. She very carefully lit the small lantern that replaced the puddle of wax as she replied, "Remember what?"

 

"You." She turned to look at him curiously and he watched a curl bounce against the high collar of her gown. "I was in the search party. Three years ago, you went missing. The entire town looked for you. Have you been here the whole time?"

 

She hesitated for a moment then nodded solemnly. "Why?" he asked, frowning. She had never seemed unhappy before she went missing. "Why live in the woods like this? Why hide yourself?"

 

She looked down at the candleholder for a moment then raised her nose into the air and said, "There wasn't anything for me in town."

 

He frowned deeply and stepped closer. She took a step back, of course, and he froze. "And what does this place offer?"

 

She smiled just a little bit and said, "Love."

 

"Love?" He repeated curiously. Then it dawned on him. "You went missing with someone, didn’t you? With Jackson Whitmore? He's here too, isn't he?"

 

Without a word, she turned to leave. Her attitude returned full force and she said, "Eat your soup, Stiles. And remember, when I ask you how it was later, I expect full honesty. No sugar coating."

 

He growled in frustration as she locked them in the cellar once more. He looked at his dad and said, "This is a school."

 

"For wha?" his dad muttered sleepily.

 

"Evasion," he replied. "And she's obviously their most accomplished student."

 

His dad managed a pathetic little chuckle. Stiles hated to see him so weak but the fact that he had his sense of humor was probably a good sign. He picked up one of the bowls of soup and gently maneuvered his dad so he could sit on the cot behind him and help him sit up to eat.

 

When he was done, Stiles helped him lie down again and sat on the ground next to the cot to eat his own soup. “Where’s Melissa?”

 

Stiles looked at his dad and frowned. “Who?”

 

But he was asleep again. Stiles fell asleep not long after him with his head pillowed on his arms on the side of the cot. He woke to Lydia digging the toe of her shoe painfully into his thigh. She prodded at him until he sat up - with groans of pain from his sore neck and back - then commanded he help her with something she didn’t specify.

 

He stood up and followed her up the stairs. Another cot was waiting at the top in the kitchen. She walked around to one side and said, “You’re going backwards. Can you handle that?”

 

He chose not to tell her that, most of the time, he couldn’t even go _up_ a staircase without risking injury. The cot wasn’t very heavy and he only tripped once, though he recovered quickly enough to keep moving. She obviously saw it, however, and he knew she was rolling her eyes at him. They put the wood cot down next to his dad’s and she took the tray upstairs without a word. A second later, she threw a pillow and two blankets down to him and managed to hit him right in the face with all three. Before he could get mad, she had shut and locked the door again.

 

He growled and stomped his feet in anger then set about making up the cot. He thought about putting the lantern out but decided to leave it since he didn’t know if she would relight it for them if he did put it out. He was so tired that the moment his head touched the pillow, he was fast asleep.

 

The next time he woke up, it was to a gentle hand on his forehead. He opened his eyes and was only mildly surprised to find that the adult woman who seemed to be checking him for a fever was definitely not Lydia. She smiled at him and handed over a cup of water as he sat up. "Are you Melissa?" he asked quietly.

 

She smiled and nodded. "Yes, I am. How'd you know?"

 

"My dad asked where you were." She smiled softly. “Have you been taking care of him?” She nodded. “Why’s he so sick?”

 

She gently lifted up the blanket covering his father and showed him his leg. He could see bandages wrapped tightly around it and a splint keeping it still. “We found him in the woods a few weeks ago. He’d fallen and broken it. To add insult to injury, he had a large branch stabbed straight through and seemed to have gotten sick when he was out there all alone.”

 

Stiles looked at his dad sadly and she quickly took his hand. “But he’s going to be fine. He’s recovering.” He smiled at her then looked back at his dad. “How much soup did he have?”

 

“Most of it,” he replied, nodding.

 

“Good! He’s getting his appetite back then,” she said happily. He smiled. She stood up and rubbed his hair comfortingly. “Do you need anything?”

 

He shook his head. “Do you know how long we’re going to be here?”

 

She sighed and gave his head a little pat. “I’m not sure, honey. Just know that you’re safe here, all right?” He didn’t nod because he didn’t believe her. They were locked in a basement, the only people he’d seen were her and Lydia even though he definitely heard Lydia talking to a man before she let him in, and he knew there had to be a reason they were keeping him down here. She gave him another pat then started for the stairs. “There’s a water closet under the stairs, if Lydia didn’t tell you about it.”

 

“Thank you,” he replied quietly. After he heard the lock slide, he went into the water closet eagerly. He had been holding it for a while.

 

Lydia came down to bring their supper and he watched the doorway instead of her, wondering if someone was up there guarding it every time one of the girls came down. She snapped her fingers in his face to break his gaze and rolled her eyes when he jumped. “You’re not going up there, Stiles. You have to stay down here.”

 

He looked at her and pouted. She rolled her eyes. He noticed she was wearing a light blue, short sleeved gown, a white bonnet, and a white apron. It was the third dress he’d seen her in. “You have a little rip in the hem of your dress,” he pointed out.

 

She lifted it and dipped her head. She let out a sigh when she found the rip and said, “Damn it.”

 

“Very ladylike,” Stiles said, laughing. She once again gave him an unpleased look. “Though the multiple dresses is actually very ladylike. Why do you need more than a couple? You live in the woods.”

 

She folded her arms and said, “I don’t need more than a couple. But there isn’t much to do in the middle of nowhere. I can only read the same books so many times before pulling my hair out begins to seem fun. Sewing is very good for occupying time.” She walked over to him and said, “In fact, I noticed your coat has a rip in the sleeve. I could fix that for you.”

 

He stood up and pulled it off. “I’d really appreciate that. I’m horrible at sewing.”

 

She smiled smugly and took the coat. He watched her hemline swish around her ankles as she climbed the stairs and grinned. “I’ll rip my shirt next, just for you.”

 

She laughed at that and he caught sight of her genuine smile right before she pushed the door shut.

 

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

 

Stiles eventually couldn't handle being in the cellar anymore. It was so boring. Worrying over his father only occupied him for so long, so he crept up the stairs and turned the handle as slowly and quietly as he could. It was locked, as expected, and he pulled a nail and wood sliver he'd found from his pocket, hoping they would work for picking the lock.

 

They did, thankfully, and he gently eased the door open.

 

No one was in the kitchen and he crept as quietly as he could to the door Lydia had first led him through. Again, he didn't see anyone through there.

 

He didn't have escape plans, honestly. There was no way to get his dad home without causing more damage to his already fragile health. But he wanted to get a look at the house and possibly at the other people in it.

 

He didn't expect to crash into one of them. But then, stumbling into things and people was kind of a specialty of his.

 

He was peering around the corner to check the entry hall for people and forgot the basic practice of looking left then right then left again before stepping out. So, of course he stepped out and slammed full force into someone coming from the left. He hit the ground along with their book and they both let out noises of shock and indignation.

 

He looked up to apologize and explain that he was definitely not trying to escape, that he just got bored in the cellar, and maybe make some introductions when a scream of shock and fear burst out against his will.

 

Whoever he had slammed into was definitely not human! They didn't have eyebrows and their eyes were bright gold! Their face was misshapen with horribly curly sideburns and fangs poking out of their mouth. They looked just as horrified seeing him as he did seeing them.

 

"Oh my God!" he exclaimed, scrambling backwards and up off the ground.

 

The unfortunate looking man backed up too before shaking his head and angrily asking, "How did you get out of the basement?"

 

"I got bored so I picked the lock!" Stiles yelled back. "What are you?"

 

That did not earn him any sort of favor in his new acquaintance's eyes. He reached out a menacingly clawed hand and yanked him up by the collar of his shirt.  "Walk," he growled angrily. Stiles was forced to stumble along behind as he pulled him to the opposite side of the house from the kitchen. He shoved open a door and pushed Stiles through. "Look what got out."

 

Stiles stumbled to a stop before he could hit the sofa in front of him and looked up to find a quaint little informal living room filled with more of... whatever the guy who seemed really happy to drag him around was. The only humans in the room were Lydia and Melissa.

 

Lydia was on a rug in front of the hearth with his jacket on her lap, Melissa was reading on the window bench, and the... well, for lack of better word, monsters were scattered here and there on the sofa, chairs, and one was on the floor beside Lydia.

 

The eldest looking monster stood up from his chair and fixed him with frightening red eyes. "How did he get out?"

 

"He said he picked the lock," the pushy one replied.

 

“With what?” Melissa asked.

 

Stiles rubbed the back of his neck self-consciously and said, “A nail and a little bit of wood.” Lydia looked mildly impressed by that and he couldn’t help but preen a little. She seemed like she’d be a hard person to impress. “It was actually really easy.”

 

Red Eyes looked decidedly unimpressed, however, and instead looked almost murderously angry. Stiles smiled nervously and fidgeted. “Okay, now, I know this looks bad. But I wasn’t trying to escape! I mean, I was, but not from the house! Just the cellar! I was bored! I don’t sit still well! I wasn’t going to run off or anything! I just wanted to look around. Maybe find something to entertain me for a bit. But I was going to stay in the house! And, you know, avoid all of you like the plague.”

 

“Good job,” Pushy Fangs said sarcastically. Stiles didn’t like him very much. From the way he was being glared at, the feeling was more than mutual. Pushy Fangs looked away from him and said, “Wasn’t someone on guard duty?”

 

Everyone looked around the room at each other silently for a moment, and then Lydia said, “Jackson was, I think.”

 

“I didn’t see anyone. And I checked. Thoroughly,” Stiles told them with a shrug.

 

“You ran into me!” Pushy Fangs reminded him. Stiles glared at him petulantly. He looked mildly perplexed by him and severely agitated.

 

“I was more careful leaving the cellar,” Stiles replied through grated teeth.

 

“Where the hell is Jackson?” Red Eyes snapped. Stiles got the feeling he was the leader here. The very exasperated leader.

 

“Probably asleep on the ceiling in the kitchen,” one of the young ones with gold eyes said. He was sitting on the sofa and he slurred when he spoke, like he was still getting used to having fangs in the way. Which made Stiles wonder how long they had all been whatever they were.

 

“On the ceiling?” Stiles repeated curiously.

 

“What are we going to do? He saw us,” the dark skinned one that beside Problem Fangs, asked Red Eyes seriously. Apparently he was going to be ignored now. Wonderful.

 

Red Eyes dropped back into his chair and sighed heavily. “I don’t know. I need a minute to think.”

 

Melissa stood up and held her hands out to Stiles. He smiled and headed over to her eagerly. They sat together on the window bench and she held his hands while they all waited. Pushy Fangs dropped into the seat beside Red Eyes and after a minute, Lydia broke the silence by saying to the girl beside her, “You lost the thread from your needle.”

 

Her blond counterpart did not look like she cared but Lydia gave her a reprimanding smack to the hand and she snapped to attention. “Rethread it.”

 

“I can’t rethread it! I have these ridiculous things that keep getting in the way!” the blond snapped angrily, waggling her claws in Lydia’s face. A loud, threatening hiss made her stop and turn to glare at the ceiling above the door. “Oh, shut up! You know I wasn’t going to hurt her!”

 

Stiles followed her gaze and jerked back in surprise so hard his head smacked into the window behind him. Everyone, even Red Eyes, turned to look at him like he was the freak. “There’s a giant lizard on your ceiling!” he said, holding his head with one hand and gesturing wildly with the other.

 

Lydia laughed and shook her head at him. “He’s not a lizard. He’s a kanima. And he loves being on the ceiling.”

 

He looked at her in horror. “A what?”

 

“Kanima,” Lydia repeated slowly, like she was talking to a four year old. She put his jacket to the side and patted her knee. The kanima – whatever the hell that was – crawled down the wall and over to her. She held his head in her lap and stroked his scales gently. “It’s…complicated. But it’s a sort of snake related shape shifter.”

 

“Shape shifter?” Stiles repeated curiously. “So he has another shape?” That seemed to make her sad and the kanima wrapped his tail around her ankle. Watching her stroke the scales on his head, realization dawned on him. “Oh my God. That’s Jackson, isn’t it? That’s Jackson Whitmore!”

 

She cocked her head at him, slow and calculating, then nodded and said, “Yes. This is Jackson.” He didn’t like the way she seemed to be analyzing him. “You could tell?”

 

“You said that love was the reason you were here. And you’re all…petty with him. Like you’re actually stroking his hair, instead of his scales.” She smiled slightly and looked down at her mutated love. She nodded and Jackson hissed softly at her. He looked around the room at the other creatures and thought. He examined them carefully, slowly, until he found a conclusion. If magic and a kanima made sense, his idea of what they were did too. “You’re werewolves.” 


	3. The Story

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Betaed wonderfully by [sourwolf-ships-sexiness](http://sourwolf-ships-sexiness.tumblr.com/)

Once again, all eyes snapped to Stiles. The blond girl turned to sit on her knees and stare at him. “How did you know?”

 

Stiles smiled proudly and said, “I was right? Nice!” Lydia and Red Eyes rolled their eyes at him. He pointed at his own teeth and said, “Canines, you’re all furry, claws, and Pushy Fangs over there growled at me.” Pushy Fangs did not look like he liked his new nickname. Blond Beauty seemed to find it funny, however. “But aren’t werewolves supposed to have two forms? Full on wolf and human, right? So what’s with you all? Is it an in-between form or something?”

 

No one answered, instead looking at Red Eyes like they needed permission to speak. After what felt like forever, he sighed and said, “You can tell him. It won’t matter anyway.” Stiles’ eyes went wide and he almost panicked. Melissa stroking his hand kept him mostly calm. Red Eyes stood up and said, “Melissa, I’m going to write a letter to Deaton. Will you take it to be mailed?”

 

“Yes, of course. What have you planned?” she asked politely. She didn’t have her life to fear like Stiles.

 

“We’ll modify his memory. Deaton should be able to whip something up,” Red Eyes said firmly. “Lydia, find him a room. There’s no point keeping him in the basement anymore.” Stiles breathed a sigh of relief and Lydia nodded. Red Eyes stepped over Jackson’s tail and started out of the room. “And introduce yourselves so he won’t continue to give all of us horrible nicknames.”

 

Blond Beauty stood up as soon as the door clicked shut behind him and walked over. She stuck out her hand to Stiles and said, “I’m Erica. Stiles, right?”

 

He nodded as he shook her hand. She pulled a chair from the chess table in the corner and sat down in front of him. It was then that he noticed what she was wearing. Men’s trousers, a man’s shirt that was un-laced to show far more than it should, and no shoes. If anyone in the village saw her, they would all have heart attacks. She smirked when she saw that he had noticed. “Problem, Stiles?”

 

“No,” he squeaked nervously. She laughed quietly. He cleared his throat and focused resolutely on her bright eyes. “Sorry. I’m not used to seeing a woman in trousers. They look good on you.”

 

“It’s really amusing how you’re not looking anywhere but at my eyes,” she said, moving her head so he would have to move his to keep eye contact and apparently ignoring him.

 

He shrugged uncomfortably. “You have beautiful eyes.”

 

“Believe it or not, I have beautiful everything,” she replied confidently.

 

“That… That’s great. I wish all women were so confident in their appearance,” he said, progressively getting more uncomfortable. She folded her legs and arms and leaned back in her seat.

 

“Fascinating,” she remarked quietly, that self-confident and smug smirk still on her lips. He had no doubt in his mind she would be absolutely gorgeous without the sideburns and fangs, which honestly looked really uncomfortable. “You already know Lydia and Jackson, obviously. The one you called ‘Pushy Fangs’ is actually called Isaac. Then on the couch you have Melissa’s son, Scott, and my mate and fiancé, Boyd.”

 

Scott waved awkwardly and Boyd nodded at him. Isaac just glared. Erica continued on to say, “Our Alpha, the one who just left, is Derek, also known as your gracious host. This is his land and home.”

 

Stiles nodded understandingly and waved to the room in general. “Cool. It’s nice to meet you all. I’m Stiles, in case anyone missed it.”

 

Scott stood up and came over to sit on the floor beside Erica’s chair. “How’d you find us, Stiles?”

 

“Honestly? It was by accident. I was just riding by and saw what I thought was an abandoned house. I stepped through the gate to use it as a place to sleep for the night and it turned into this place. I was actually looking for my dad and I knew it was probably really stupid to go and bother the people who had apparently used magic to hide their house but I had to ask if whoever lived here had seen him. And here we are now,” Stiles told him earnestly. He liked Scott. He had a puppy dog face, even all distorted like that, and didn’t seem malicious at all. “Now you tell me about the werewolf stuff.”

 

"That’s actually a pretty neat story," Melissa told him. "It could almost be called great, if it were being told from an outsider's point of view."

 

"Yes, yes, it could. So long as it hasn't ruined your life," Erica said bitterly. Stiles frowned at her slightly. She took a deep breath that obviously didn't soothe her at all, because she stood up and walked away. Boyd pulled her into his arms as soon as she was close enough and she curled into him sadly.

 

Lydia scoffed unsympathetically. "I don't know what you're complaining about. At least your lover can hold you.” Jackson wrapped his tail around her waist and she looked down at him unhappily. “Mine’s a lizard.”

 

Jackson hissed at her and retreated to the ceiling. She rolled her eyes at him.

 

"Let's just agree that no one’s happy as things are and move on, all right?" Isaac suggested irritably. “There’s nothing to be done so there’s no use complaining.”

 

Melissa looked at Stiles and said, “Obviously being werewolves hasn’t worked out well for anyone here.” She smiled uncomfortably then said, “But! But the story starts six years ago with some werewolves that did actually have a nice life.” Stiles moved to the floor next to Scott and folded his legs. He propped his head in his hands, his elbows on his knees, and looked up at her like he and the other children used to when his mother would read to them weekly at the local general store. She laughed softly and turned to look at him and Scott. Scott was watching him curiously so Stiles screwed his face up and stuck his tongue out at him.

 

Scott burst out laughing and almost fell backward throwing his head back. Stiles grinned proudly. Then he focused on Melissa. She started up again, “Six years ago, in this very house, Derek lived with his family peacefully.” She told them how eleven people, six of whom were werewolves with the typical ability to switch between part-wolf and human forms, lived in the house happily together. She told them that Derek was a tender fifteen back then and his sister – Laura, who was also a werewolf – was only sixteen. She explained that her etiquette lessons were in town and that, strictly for appearance’s sake, Derek had to escort her to them.

 

One January day, while waiting outside the house where Laura had her lessons, Derek caught sight of a woman so beautiful that she took his breath away. She was coming out of the general store and the wind blew her scent across the way to him and he was helplessly intoxicated by it. She apparently caught him staring and walked over to speak with him. After a brief conversation, she asked him if he had time to escort her back to her room at the local inn and maybe stay for a cup of tea. Charmed and mildly infatuated, he agreed.

 

According to Melissa, Derek became ill upon drinking the strange tea that he was told came from somewhere far away. The woman was kind and soothed him gently but he was still unnerved. Werewolves never got ill, at least not to his knowledge. He left as soon as he was able to stand without the nausea sending him back into his seat. He pulled his sister from her lesson early and hurried home.

 

His mother, the leader of their pack, told him firmly to never speak with that woman again and to be very careful coming home, so as not to lead her directly to them.

 

About a week later, when Derek and Laura were once again in town for her lessons, the mysterious woman made her way to the Hale mansion with three other men. Using specially designed weapons and the human children as hostages, they forced the family into the stables and sealed them in by lining the outside of the building with a powder made from something called mountain ash. Then they set fire to the stables. By the time the smoke was seen and the villagers – including Derek and Laura – came to put it out, almost everyone inside was dead. The only survivor was Derek’s paternal uncle, Peter, who was only just clinging to life thanks to his werewolf blood.

 

Following the hierarchy of most werewolf families, Laura became the leader, or the Alpha, in werewolf terminology.

 

Despite a fresh scent to follow, and Derek’s knowledge of her appearance, they were unable to track down the woman or any of the men who had murdered their family.

 

They focused on helping their uncle recover from the fire. They hired Melissa, a nurse, to care for him professionally, since they weren’t experienced in such areas as medical care. She lived with them at the mansion, along with Scott, and cared for Peter diligently, maintaining his health and trying to heal his burns. But he wasn’t even able to stand on his own for three years.

 

The first time Melissa saw him standing, he was hunched over Laura on the basement floor, soaked with his niece’s blood and almost fully transformed. He turned on Melissa as the transformation completed and she screamed in terror. Almost immediately, Scott came running down the stairs to check on her. He couldn’t help at all. He was only thirteen and human at the time. And Peter, having killed Laura, was now fully healed and an Alpha. He picked Scott up in his jaws and threw him. Derek arrived and tried to fight Peter but was hopelessly outmatched. When Melissa came to, Derek was lying on a pile of debris from the shelves in the basement and Scott was still in the spot against the wall where he’d been thrown. Peter was gone.

 

Despite his desperate need to hunt down Peter, Derek had to stay at the mansion with Melissa and Scott, healing from the wounds inflicted on him by Peter and watching Scott during his transformation, and then during the full moon. By the time he got out to search for Peter, the scent trail had gone cold and he couldn’t track him down. They were forced to wait.

 

They never expected that the next time Derek was able to pick up Peter’s scent would be after he had killed a village man. And then another, and another. Derek figured out that he was killing anyone involved in the fire. He was drawing far too much attention to the area and they had no guarantee that he would stop when he had extracted his revenge. Derek worked tirelessly to stop him.

 

He failed over and over. He was only one person, werewolf abilities or not, and Peter was stronger and far more determined. But then his pack began to grow, thanks entirely to Peter. Anyone who got in his way, he set out to kill them as well. And rather than succeeding every time, Derek managed to save several people. Only three of which did not join his pack. They got away with scratches, thanks to Derek. The ones who did join the pack weren’t so lucky.

 

Derek rescued Jackson and Lydia from him first. They had decided to use the distraction of the “animal attacks” to run away from home, since they had been told they wouldn’t be allowed to marry. As they were traveling through the woods, Peter found them and attacked, for no reason that Derek could find. Jackson tried to protect Lydia and ended up being bit. Derek came in just in time to save them from being killed and they moved into the mansion.

 

Then there was Isaac. His father had attacked him before Peter had and he had run from his home; straight into the scene of Peter’s latest attack. Derek found him as he was nearing death. He brought him back to the mansion and together, Derek, Lydia, and Melissa managed to save him.

 

And next was Erica. She suffered from epilepsy, an overbearing and angry mother, and just happened to be the daughter of one of the men involved in the Hale family murder. Peter attacked the entire family in their home and killed both her parents, as well as one of their slaves who tried to protect them. That slave had been Boyd’s father. Erica was saved from certain death by Boyd himself, but not before Peter managed to get his teeth into both of them. Again, Derek came in too late to kill Peter, but he and Melissa managed to save them both from succumbing to their wounds.

 

When a hunter family rolled into Stiles' town, most likely on orders to investigate the attacks and disappearances, Derek knew immediately that that had been Peter’s goal all along, because the woman was with them.  A little snooping revealed she was named Kate and her family was one of the most prominent in the hunting subculture. Derek wasn’t particularly inclined to save her but as far as he knew, her brother’s family hadn’t been involved and he wasn’t going to let Peter kill them.

 

In the end, the only way he managed to kill Peter was with the help of Kate’s brother and Peter’s unwilling betas, but not before Kate had been killed. And not before she worked a spell to “reveal them for what they were” to prove to her brother they deserved to be killed. However, the spell didn’t make them shift for a few minutes. It kept them shifted forever, unless their Alpha could find his ‘true mate’ and earn their love. Kate had undoubtedly been unhappy that there was even a way to reverse it in the first place but all spells had a solution. It was, in a way, a universal law.

 

They hid themselves away and sent letters out to any werewolf families that they knew of. Soon, they were receiving letters and trinkets and even visits from hundreds of young, unmarried and unmated ladies and gentlemen, each one hoping to be the person to end the curse. Each one hoping their scent, their words, would stir Derek’s wolf and leave him desperately wanting after them. But though he tried desperately, Derek was unable to find his one true mate. And so they remained hidden away, cursed and unable to ever expose themselves to the rest of the world, for fear of being hunted and killed. 


	4. The Unfriendly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Betaed wonderfully by my dear [sourwolf-ships-sexiness](http://sourwolf-ships-sexiness.tumblr.com/), who had finals this previous week. Which, in all honesty, suited me just fine, as it gave me time to procrastinate writing chapters 5 and 6.

 

“But we still have hope,” Melissa finished firmly. Stiles loved the way she spoke, how she spun and manipulated her words to draw him deep into such a sad story. “One day, he’ll find the right person and we’ll be free to move around without worry.” She looked at Scott and gripped his chin playfully. “And I expect a beautiful daughter-in-law and gorgeous grandchildren when that happens.”

 

Stiles laughed, Scott smiled. “I can’t guarantee the good looks.”

 

“Oh, please. You inherited my looks; they’ll be gorgeous,” Melissa said back. Stiles’ smile was so wide it hurt. He really liked Melissa. She seemed so wonderful. He wanted to be her friend, despite the fact that she was probably eighteen years his senior, at least.

 

“The letter is ready when you are.” Stiles swiveled around to look at Derek as he reentered the room. His expression was the same as when he had left; still set in a grim and unpleasant scowl. Melissa and Scott stood up and Scott kissed her cheek. She walked out and Derek followed.

 

“He’s all business, isn’t he?” Stiles commented to Scott as soon as they had left.

 

Scott nodded with a little smile and took hold of his elbow gently. He pulled him to his feet effortlessly and said, “C’mon. Lydia’s calling for you.”

 

Stiles nodded back and followed him out. Isaac frowned and waved towards him. He wasn’t sure why he’d felt the need to wave and, honestly, it sort was creeping him out. He wondered if he was trying to be friendly and failing. Scott led him up the stairs in the foyer and down the hallway to the only door that was open. Lydia was inside, along with two single person beds. She was turning down the bedding on the one closest to the door and completely ignored them when they entered. While Stiles looked around curiously, Scott went over to see if she needed help. She shooed him away and said, “Go fill up the wood basket.”

 

Scott collected the basket and left. Stiles turned to look at Lydia. “Thank you.”

 

“Of course. Anything to get the latest information from the outside world,” she replied with an exaggerated sweetness. She turned to face the door and shouted, “Isaac, Boyd! Bring Mr. Stilinski up here! His bed’s ready!”

 

She didn’t have to yell very loudly, Stiles noticed. “What’s their hearing range?” he asked as politely as he could.

 

“I’m not sure,” she replied honestly. “We’ve never tested it. But it’s assumed that it’s better than a regular wolf’s. Derek heard Erica screaming all the way in town. The hearing range is even better when they’re focused.” She turned and winked at him. “I’d love to test it.”

 

He grinned and nodded eagerly. She moved to the side of the bed opposite the door just in time for Boyd and Isaac to come into the room. Isaac was carrying his father’s things while Boyd was carrying his father. And, okay, Boyd was a big guy, but he really shouldn’t have been able to carry his father as easily as he would a child. Did that mean their strength was enhanced too? Boyd lowered his father gently to the bed and Isaac put his things in the trunk at the foot of his bed. Lydia immediately started to tuck him  in. Stiles moved to help and said, “Thank you, you two,” as he moved around the other two boys.

 

“Not a problem,” Isaac replied. Boyd nodded. Stiles really wished he would talk. It was starting to freak him out.

 

Boyd walked closer and made Stiles regret ever hoping he would speak. “If you even _look_ at Erica in a way I don’t like, I’ll end you. No matter what Derek says.”

 

After ensuring that he’d frightened Stiles to the very core of his being with a dark glare, Boyd turned around and walked towards the door. Erica was leaning there in the doorway, smirking and looking at her lover affectionately. As they left together, Stiles looked at Isaac and Scott and said, “So, Boyd’s a little possessive, huh?”

 

They both nodded and chuckled. “Little bit.” Scott hopped up on Stiles’ bed and sat cross legged. “But he’s nothing compared to Erica. Lydia play flirted with Boyd once, just to rile her up, and Derek had to pull Erica off Lydia before she yanked all her hair out. Then Jackson paralyzed her as punishment.  It was an interesting day.”

 

Stiles started to laugh but then the word ‘paralyzed’ sank into his mind and he looked between Scott and Isaac curiously. “Jackson can paralyze people?”

 

They both nodded and Isaac shuddered. “It’s horrible. It lasts for hours and the only thing you can move is your eyes. If you’re lucky you can talk a little. It’s a really terrible feeling; especially if you’re used to being ten times more powerful than the average human.”

 

“How does he do it?” Stiles asked uncomfortably.

 

“With his claws.”

 

Stiles nodded his understanding and said, “Ok. Mental note: Avoid Jackson’s claws at all costs.”

 

“Well, he kind of has to have intent so it’s more like ‘avoid making Jackson mad at all costs’,” said Scott smugly. Stiles nodded again and gave a thumbs up to signal that he understood. “The best way to do that is stay away from Lydia. Not, like, completely away. But no flirting or looking at her bust line. Not even a little bit. Not even for a _second_.”

 

Stiles was starting to get the feeling that Scott had been paralyzed by Jackson before. “And what were you looking at when you learned that lesson?”

 

Scott flushed and shifted awkwardly. “She was in her nightgown. I couldn’t help it.”

 

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

 

Stiles learned within days just who his friends were in the house. He and Scott just clicked. They were immediately nearest and dearest friends.

 

He and Lydia clicked too, but less in a best friends way and more in an 'I finally have someone to match wits with' way. She assured him - rather haughtily -that Derek had been a more than worthy opponent in Derek that she hadn't been wanting, despite his perpetual moodiness.

 

Stiles really wished he could experience Derek's alleged wit but Derek never really spoke TO him. He spoke around him but would completely ignore Stiles if he spoke. He definitely wasn't a friend.

 

But Melissa was. She was kind, caring, patient, playful, and sarcastic. He loved her.

 

Jackson was even more of a not-friend than Derek. He hissed anytime Stiles came within three feet of him and watched him around Lydia like Stiles might decide to stab her to death with a chess piece at any time. 

 

As for the other three, they weren't friends. But they weren't complete assholes like Derek either. Mostly they acted like they didn't care he was there. Then there were other times that were not fun. For example, Erica took to flirting with him to make Boyd growl and snap at him for her own amusement. Isaac was a whole other kind of crazy and took delight in tormenting Stiles.

 

He particularly enjoyed pushing him into Jackson or Lydia and seemed determined to help Stiles experience Jackson's paralyzing claws first hand. He was thwarted every time, however, by whoever was close enough to grab Stiles and yank him away before he could crash into either Lydia or Jackson. Even Derek saved him a couple times. Not happily, though.

 

Melissa told him that Derek was rarely happy.

 

Stiles tried to avoid him without being too obvious but the house just wasn't big enough. It seemed he would just have to suck it up and wait for Derek to relax.

 

In the meantime, he decided to ignore him.

 

Scott was more than willing to help him ignore Derek too. They played chess, cards, and anything else they could find or come up with, when they weren't sitting on the floor talking. Scott liked to sit on the floor, especially if his mom was near and he could lean on her leg. Sometimes Isaac would join them. It was typically the only time he didn't creep Stiles out.

 

One day, about a week into Stiles' stay at the house, he, Scott, and Isaac were playing cards on the floor of Stiles' room when Melissa accidentally knocked his bag off the bed. Stiles brushed off her apologies and went to pick it up. As he did so, the handkerchief Allison had given him fell out.

 

Scott scooped it up and said, "This isn't yours," blankly.

 

Stiles took his spot on the floor back and said, "No. My friend Allison gave it to me before I left. As a good luck charm, you know. Who's turn?"

 

Scott ignored Isaac pointing at him and twined the handkerchief around his fingers gently. "It smells good."

 

Stiles thought nothing of Scott’s comment and continued to look at his hand of cards, but Isaac groaned, “Aw, shit,” loudly.

 

"What? What did he do?" Stiles asked, curiously looking up.

 

"It's not what he did. It's your fault for bringing it here.” Scott was flushing but couldn’t take his eyes off the handkerchief.  “He likes her scent.”

 

Stiles frowned then grimaced as a sudden thought occurred to him. “Give me the handkerchief, Scott. Give it to me and get out.” He held out his hand and Scott finally looked up, promptly growling at him. Isaac laughed while Stiles resisted the urge to shy away. “You did not just growl at me! I’m not going to let you _enjoy_ my best friend’s scent! Now give it here!”

 

Scott suddenly looked scandalized and Isaac literally smacked his forehead in exasperation. “That was not what I meant.”

 

“What’s going on in here?” Stiles tilted his head all the way back to see Derek standing behind him, looking twice as agitated as usual. “Why is Erica cackling?”

 

“Because she’s nosy and listens into everyone’s conversations?” Isaac replied. Derek did not look impressed. “Stiles’ dear friend Allison gave him a good luck charm that Scott likes. A lot.”

 

Derek’s brow went up. He looked down at Stiles and said, “I’m guessing you’re confused?”

 

Stiles lifted his head up and turned the rest of his body around. “I’m sorry. Are you talking to me?” Derek rolled his eyes. Stiles glared up at him and said, “Yes. I’m confused.”

 

“We can identify our mates through scent,” Isaac told him. “Remember? The story Melissa told you? How people from all over sent Derek things with their scents on them when word got out that we’d been cursed?”

 

Stiles swiveled around again, this time to stare at Scott. “Oh my God.”

 

Scott gently rubbed his fingers over the handkerchief and breathed deeply. Derek groaned from behind him and said, “Great.”

 

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

 

Stiles and Derek were alone in the kitchen. Derek was cleaning a chicken from the coup while Stiles sat on the counter, waiting for the water on the stove to boil. He was kicking his feet and could see that it was irritating Derek. Honestly, he wanted to see how Derek would handle it. So far, the most Derek had said to him was that one sentence yesterday. He wanted to see if he would actually talk to him to get him to stop.

 

So far, he hadn’t said a word.

 

Finally, Derek snapped. He slammed down the knife and turned to face Stiles. “Either knock it off or I’ll chop them off.”

 

“Sure you will,” Stiles replied calmly. Derek glared at him. He continued his fidgeting and stretched his neck to see inside the pot on the stove.

 

Suddenly, clawed fingers were gripping his ankles, Derek was right in his face, and he was trying to contain the urge to laugh. “Hold. Still,” Derek growled angrily.

 

“Can’t. I’m naturally twitchy.” Stiles grinned cheekily at Derek. His glare grew darker and his grip grew tighter. “I’m serious. I have to kick. Kick or tap or just fidget. Otherwise I start babbling. And believe it or not, that’s worse.”

 

Derek’s glare grew into a perplexed frown. Stiles kept on grinning. “You gonna let go of me?” he asked. Derek clenched his ankles tighter, briefly, and then released him.

 

“You’re going to be a pain in my ass, aren’t you?” Derek asked before returning to the chicken corpse.

 

“Probably.” He swung his feet side to side and hummed a little tune. Derek sighed heavily.

 

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

 

After the conversation in the kitchen, Stiles started to play up his ‘natural twitchiness’ for Derek. He would tap his fingers, hum, kick, wiggle, and whistle. Whistling seemed to get under Derek’s skin the fastest, which sort of made sense with the pitch he liked to hit. Everyone else seemed to find his desire to rile Derek up funny. Derek, of course, was not amused and in fact seemed to be getting closer and closer to snapping and sinking either his teeth or claws into Stiles.

 

That just entertained Stiles even more.

 

He thought that maybe if Derek snapped, he’d relax and would actually start talking civilly toward him. Stiles could tell they would have great conversations once Derek did so. He just had to figure out how to make him do it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like to imagine that Stiles has the same twisted, nonsensical planning that I do most of the time. It'll make more sense later.


	5. The Ridiculous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Betaed wonderfully by [sourwolf-ships-sexiness](http://sourwolf-ships-sexiness.tumblr.com/)

Derek took far less time to break than expected. Stiles had pegged Derek as a more stubborn man, but he wasn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth; at least, not all the time.

 

His experiment ended with Derek slamming him into a wall less than a week in. Leaning into him menacingly he growled, “You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you? You wantme mad, is that it? You realize I could rip your delicate little neck to pieces in seconds, don’t you?”

 

“That’s a lot of questions. Are you actually going to start talking to me now?” Stiles snapped back at him angrily. “You know, when you’re done ripping my head off.”

 

Derek huffed furiously. “Is that what you’ve been up to? You want me to talk to you?”

 

“I want you to relax! I’m not here to pull anything, Derek! I didn’t even know your house existed! I didn’t know werewolves existed! I’m only here because you saved my dad! And I’m very grateful! I’m not going to repay you with betrayal! So _relax_!” Derek’s angry expression switched to one of confusion and surprise. Stiles softened his voice. “I’m not here to hurt your pack.”

 

Derek studied him for a long moment, then slowly removed his hands from their positions on either side of Stiles’ body, and backed away. Stiles pushed away from the wall and waited. He could see Derek was processing what he had said, in particular the fact that what Stiles had said wasn’t a lie.

 

Then, to Stiles’ surprise, Derek stopped staring at him and turned to leave. He wondered irritably if Derek had actually left the _house_ to get away from him and why _Stiles_ was apparently the crazy one.

 

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

 

“What’d you do to Derek?” Lydia asked when he entered the library several hours later. She didn’t even look up from whatever it was she was writing, yet Stiles could still tell that she had on her, ‘you’re being ridiculous’ face.

 

Stiles dropped into the chair opposite Lydia and glared at her defensively. “Who said I did it?” She didn’t even bother replying. He sighed. “I don’t know. I haven’t seen him in hours. What’s wrong with him?”

 

“He’s sulking in the stables,” she replied, still without looking up. She wrote something with a flourish and tossed her braid back over her shoulder from where it had slipped to her front. “What did you do?”

 

“I annoyed him until he confronted me about it,” he replied honestly. “The stables? Seriously? This house is huge. Doesn’t he have a better place to sulk?”

 

“His family died there.” She finally lifted her head after another flourish, this time at the end of the paper. He figured that meant she was writing a letter.

 

That didn’t make any sense. As a werewolf, wouldn’t Derek be able to still smell everything? Why would he want to be out there? He grimaced at the thought. “That’s…mildly disturbing.”

 

She smiled slightly and shook her head. “He’s a disturbed individual.”

 

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

 

Isaac asked him about Derek as well, right before dinner. Stiles was helping set the table when Isaac cornered him in the dining room. It was Boyd’s turn to cook and everything smelled delicious. He really didn’t want to deal with another member of the pack accusing him of messing Derek up but Isaac left him no choice. He was now trapped between the table and the doorway. “What’d you do to my Alpha?”

 

“Why is it that _I_ ’ _m_ automatically the one who sent him hiding in the stables? There _are_ other people in the house, you know.”

 

“We know better,” Isaac told him. Stiles was seriously considering rethinking whether he liked being in this stupid house or not. “What did you do to Derek, Stiles?”

 

Stiles glared at him and shrugged. “I told him he could trust me.”

 

To his surprise, Isaac laughed and nodded, “Sounds about right.”

 

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

 

“Everyone in this house is crazy.” Stiles could see Scott nodding his agreement sagely out of the corner of his eye. “I’m including you in that, buddy.”

 

“I figured. And I’m including you,” Scott replied with a shrug. Stiles laughed and turned his head to look at him. Somehow, their unusually natural friendship had become close enough that they had no problems sharing Stiles’ small, single person bed with arms and sides touching. “You kind of have to be a little insane to cope with being in a pack of werewolves.”

 

Stiles smiled. He rolled onto his side and said, “I don’t wanna go home. I like you. You’re fun.”

 

Scott rolled over too and grinned back at him. “You could ask for the bite, but then you’d be cursed with us.” His grin faded and he sighed. “Probably forever.”

 

Stiles patted his arm. He had wondered about that for a while and gently asked, “Are you sure you tried everything? There’s no way to break the curse except the whole true love thing?”

 

Scott obviously understood that he wasn’t implying anything unpleasant, simply asking out of curiosity and shook his head sadly.

 

“None. Lydia looked in every book she could get her hands on, Deaton asked everyone he knew, and Derek delved so deep into his family records, we weren’t sure he would ever be able to read English again.” Stiles frowned in confusion. “The early records are all in Latin and are written on really fragile looking scrolls. Only Derek and Lydia are allowed to touch them.”

 

“That’s so cool.” Scott laughed. Stiles rolled over again and stared up at the ceiling. “Seriously, every five minutes I start wondering whether I walked into a story book or not. It just keeps getting better. At this point, I’m just waiting for my love interest.”

 

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

 

The next day, Scott, finally, flat out asked Stiles to talk to Derek. Apparently, he was still in the barn. Sighing, Stiles yanked on his jacket and went out. He decided halfway to the barn that he was going to multitask and picked up two buckets next to the well that sat in the center of the garden. He filled them both up and continued to the stables. Oddly, when he entered, Derek was nowhere to be seen. He found the soap and brush for the horses and walked to Je’s stall.

 

“Hey, sweetie,” he greeted her cheerfully. “I don’t suppose you’ve seen a brooding werewolf anywhere?” She, of course, did not reply.

 

He started washing her down, humming a cheerful little song his mom had favored while he did so. Je loved getting washed up. She was such a spoiled old girl. He told her so as she preened under the attention. He heard nickering and snorting from the stall across from her and turned his head to see who was making the noise. It was Derek’s horse; a gorgeous young black stallion who seemed just as grumpy as his owner. He was watching Stiles from his stall.

 

“You want a bath too?” Stiles asked with a laugh. “Alright, just let me finish up with her.” He finished up with Je and she nickered contently when he dropped the brush into the bucket of soapy water. He gathered it and the bucket with clean water up and moved to the stallion’s stall. “Do you know where Derek is?”

 

He held out his hand for inspection and it was treated with strangely disdainful approval. Stiles opened the stall door and stepped in. He rubbed the horse’s neck and said, “Pretty boy,” affectionately.

 

“No.” Stiles’ turned his head but couldn’t find Derek. Then he suddenly dropped down from the hayloft. He smirked at Stiles as he straightened up and swaggered forward. “Cam is a _girl_.”

 

“Cam?” Stiles repeated. “What’s that short for?”

 

“Nothing,” Derek replied, like somehow Stiles was an idiot for not knowing that. “It’s just Cam. What’s Je short for?”

 

“Jeep,” Stiles told him with a shrug.

 

“What the hell kind of name is that?”

 

Stiles smiled bashfully. “Um, well. It’s not. I mean, it is. See, her dad was my dad’s horse and I couldn’t say his name properly – his name was Felipe, by the way – when I was little. Mom said it sounding like Jeep. So when Felipe got Mom’s horse pregnant, they decided the babe was going to be mine and named it Jeep, as a way to tease little four year old me.” He turned around to look at Derek fully and said, “Seriously. Cam?”

 

Derek ignored him, apparently, and walked over to join him in the stall. He leaned on the wall and Stiles sighed before he started washing Cam gently. “Sorry for calling you a boy,” he said before he started humming again. Derek, surprisingly, said nothing. After he finished, he turned back to Derek again. “So, did sulking in the hayloft help you realize that I’m not, in fact, here to hurt anyone?”

 

Derek crossed his arms across his chest and shook his head. “No. But it helped me realize something else.” Stiles raised his eyebrows and waited. “Even if you wanted to hurt one of us, you’re not going to get the chance.” He walked closer and leaned in to look into Stiles’ eyes. “We’ll watch you. Constantly. Until the moment you swallow the potion and forget us. Until then, you’re just a helpless little human. You won’t be able to hurt us.” He looked Stiles over and chuckled darkly. “Not without help. And we’ll make sure there won’t be anyone to help you.”

 

Stiles swallowed heavily, afraid for the first time since he realized what they all were, and all too aware that Derek was right. Even if they were humans as well, he wasn’t big or strong enough to hold his own in a fight with any of them. “I see that you understand. Good. So you see why there’s no reason to be guarded around you.”

 

He backed off and Stiles released a breath of relief. Derek looked far too pleased with himself as he returned to leaning against the stall walls. Stiles decided he was done hanging out with Derek and started to leave.

 

“Wait.” Stiles paused at the door. “It was our nickname for Camille; my baby sister. She loved horses.”

 

Stiles heaved a sigh and left the barn. “Why can’t I just hate him?” he whined at Lydia when she met him at the back door to the house. She laughed. “He’s such an asshole. How can he be such an asshole and then make me want to just give him a hug and rub his ears like a sad puppy?”

 

Lydia just kept laughing at him.

 

He grumbled and stomped the dirt off his shoes. “I hate _everyone_ in this house.”

 

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

 

Derek started talking to him, which, honestly, gave Stiles’ mixed feelings. On one hand, Derek was an excellent combatant for battles of sarcastic wit. On the other, Derek frightened him. A lot. And he seemed to enjoy doing it.

 

Stiles told Scott this and he just shrugged. “I wouldn’t be surprised.”

 

Stiles wished he could be so nonchalant about Derek apparently finding joy in scaring him. As it stood, he know approached every attempt at conversation with Derek carefully, never sure whether it would be alarming or perfectly normal. Finally, after several days of walking on eggshells, he managed to remind himself that allowing Derek to alarm him was just what Derek wanted, and that he shouldn’t give him that. Derek was an asshole and Stiles was giving him far too much satisfaction, letting him scare him so. So he forced back all feelings of fear and trepidation. If Derek had wanted to harm him, after all, he probably would have done it by now.

 

With that constantly in mind, he was able to approach conversations with Derek as he had before, minus the irritation about being ignored, of course. He started attempting to annoy Derek whenever Derek tried to frighten him. He would start humming or whistling or tapping his fingers, so that Derek’s expression would lose its hostility in favor of a vein throbbing in his forehead.

 

Eventually, Derek realized Stiles had changed their little game and stopped trying to scare him, purely so Stiles would stop trying to annoy him. They traded their sarcastic barbs and talked calmly instead. It was almost pleasant. Not to say that Derek wasn’t still an asshole, of course - that seemed to be a permanent part of his personality - but he was much more fun without the intimidation tactics.

 

For example, he was much more fun to play chess with. Even more fun that Scott. Scott had a fairly straight forward strategy, while Derek was sneaky and liked to try and trick him. Scott only pulled tricks when he absolutely needed them. Stiles loved to call Derek’s bluff and figure out his plan.

 

There wasn’t much to do at the house, so they played chess every day. Derek spent two hours in his room every day after lunch, time in which that no one dared interrupt, then typically joined everyone in the living room and played chess with Stiles. Isaac told Stiles that Derek was working on building and maintaining muscle tone during those two hours and hated being disturbed, since it would throw off his rhythm. While Derek was doing that, everyone else usually occupied themselves with chores or whatever they could find. Isaac would work out in the stables, cleaning stalls and the horses’ hooves or anything else that needed doing. Boyd raked leaves in the yard or split wood. Erica dusted or scrubbed the floors, Melissa swept or washed dishes, Lydia did the laundry or gather vegetables from the garden, and Scott cleaned out either the stove or the fireplaces in the house. Stiles quickly figured out that he could do general tidying up as his activity or, occasionally, some re-shelving in the library. Derek apparently did his chores later in the evening, before he went on to bed. Stiles didn’t know what those chores were but no one seemed unhappy or concerned that he wasn’t doing his fair share so Stiles didn’t bother to ask.

 

The rest of the day was generally occupied with leisurely activities: reading, sewing, playing cards, chess, or even just napping. There wasn’t much to do and it was actually rather boring. So Lydia and the others took to teaching him new things. Lydia taught him to speak some simple Latin, Erica taught him to cheat at cards, Melissa taught him simple but effective home remedies, and Boyd taught him how to keep pests out of the garden. Isaac and Scott had nothing to offer except things he already knew, though they claimed they would have had plenty to teach if he were a werewolf too. Jackson, of course, was a lizard and probably would have loved to watch Stiles attempt to learn to climb walls, but wasn’t able to offer.

 

 

Lydia convinced Derek to let him accompany her into town for the bimonthly shopping trip, using the fact that Melissa wouldn’t want to be away from Stiles’ father  long enough to get everything taken care of. Derek was reluctant, but he took great pleasure in reminding Stiles that if he caused any harm to come to the pack, Derek wouldn’t hesitate to exact revenge on him.

 

“So you and Melissa are the only ones who go to town,” Stiles said absentmindedly as he attached Je to the buggy gently. “What about during winter? Do you take turns then?”

 

“What do you mean?” Lydia asked. She was petting Je while Stiles worked. Derek was standing the barn doorway, watching them menacingly.

 

“During the winter, do you take turns doing the town run?” he repeated, unsure what exactly she didn’t understand.

 

"Stiles, if I have to ask what you're talking about one more time, you'll stay here," Lydia threatened angrily. “I already told you that Melissa and I go together every time. No one else _can_ go.”

 

Stiles stared at her blankly as he realized exactly what was confusing her. "You're serious."

 

She looked ready to burst with frustration.

 

"You guys seriously haven't thought of…. Oh my god. You’re ridiculous. All of you,” he said, still having a hard time believing that the smartest person he had ever met could miss something so obvious. He shook his head and said, “You know what? Let’s talk about it when we get back. I can’t deal with you people.”

 

Lydia huffed snobbishly and flounced over to the step up into the buggy. Derek walked to help her in as she sneered at Stiles, “Funny. I was just thinking the same thing about you.”

 


	6. The Frightened

The trip into town was woefully uneventful. Lydia was quick and efficient, but not impolite to the shopkeepers they interacted with. No one recognized him, which was expected, and everyone seemed to know Lydia. Few asked about them, but when his presence was questioned, Lydia replied by telling them that her grandfather had hired him on to tend the horses and escort her into town.

 

As they drove into town, she explained to Stiles that the story that she and Melissa told, was that Melissa was her governess and that she lived with her wealthy grandfather deep in the woods. The fictional grandfather was too frail to leave the house and thus was never seen. Everyone seemed perfectly accepting of this tale, of course, because why would a little darling like Lydia ever lie about something like that?

 

Stiles had scoffed. He had known Lydia for less than a fortnight and he already knew with absolute certainty that the girl was anything but a little darling and definitely loved to pull the wool over the town’s peoples’ eyes.

 

He was enjoying watching her use her falsified charm on everyone, so he didn’t correct them when they called her ‘sweetheart’ and other inaccuracies. It was fun, watching the devil’s daughter trick people. It was also fun to just get out of the house for a little while. He was eager to tell Derek his idea for taking everyone else to the village. They would be great to watch.

 

The buggy ride back was boring, unfortunately. Je seemed like she would prefer to nod off right in the middle of the forest than go all the way back to the house. Night fell before they were even halfway back. Stiles guided Je to a stop and climbed down from the driver’s bench. He pulled the folding roof up over the buggy and retrieved two blankets and the lanterns from the storage bench that Lydia was thankfully not sleeping on. Stiles lit one and placed it on the driver’s bench then proceeded to light the other and set it on the floor of the buggy. Without it, he would not be able to see what he was doing while he covered Lydia with a blanket. The air was so crisp; she was likely to catch her death in the brisk October air without it.

Lydia shifted on the bench and curled in on herself sleepily. With the lantern in hand, Stiles was making his way back to the driver’s bench when something caught his eye. What he noticed were bushes. On them shinned nice, plump berries that glinted in the light of his lantern. With the thought in mind of taking some home, Stiles recovered a burlap sack from the buggy. Inside was the ink that he and Lydia had purchased, and after removing the contents, he went over to bushes and started filling up the sack.

 

“Why’d we stop?” Lydia mumbled, as he twisted the full sack shut and stowed it with the rest of the purchases.

 

“I had to light the lanterns. Plus, I found some blackberry bushes,” he told her cheerfully. He placed his lantern on the seat beside the other. “Did I tell you how much I love making pie? Because I do; and I’m good at it, especially with berries.”

 

She smiled at him sleepily. He started to climb up on the bench again, only to topple to the ground with a shriek of pain when something lurched out from the brush and sank its ridiculously sharp teeth into his ankle. He kicked and flailed, trying to shake the wolf that had bit him. Lydia screamed. He hoped she was going for the gun under her seat and could only pray that she got it before the wolves trying to take down Je succeeded.

 

He was screaming in agony, and couldn’t get the wolf off his leg. He heard Lydia cocking the little rifle between his screams, and then a shot. The wolf on his leg didn’t let go. He heard Je let out a distressed sound, however, and then heard Lydia shriek and the sound of the wagon tearing off down the dirt path. Je had panicked. He was alone.

 

And then he wasn’t. The wolves that had quickly turned their attention to him after Je bolted were pulled off of him, as a terrifying roar rippled through the air. The wolf on his leg was ripped off and thrown with ten times the force any human would have been able to exert. He lifted his head, whimpering and whining, to find Derek looming over him protectively. He reached up fearfully and Derek scooped him up into his arms. He looped his bleeding arms around Derek’s neck.

 

Stiles closed his eyes as the pain took him, somehow instinctively knowing that Derek would protect him.

 

When he opened them again, he was still in agony, though it was mildly muffled. He chalked it up to the cloudiness of sleep. He was in so much pain and none of his fingers or toes would move. His limbs felt heavy. He turned his head and found himself in an unfamiliar room. Suddenly, Derek was in front of him. “Go back to sleep. You’re safe now. Melissa’s going to give you something for the pain.”

 

He felt Derek touch his cheek and some of his pain slowly seemed to seep right out of his body. He closed his eyes again. He would have to thank Derek for the rescue later.

 

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

 

Again he awoke in the unfamiliar room with Derek nearby. He felt his hand on his cheek once more and opened his eyes. He felt quite a bit better this time around, far less sore and much more awake. Derek slipped an arm under him when he saw he was awake and helped him sit up against the pillows and headboard.

 

He stared at Derek as the older man took a seat on the space beside him. “How’re you feeling?”

 

“Fine,” Stiles replied. “How long was I asleep?” He looked down at his arms and found them almost completely covered in bandages. He wasn’t wearing a nightshirt, but instead had even more bandages wrapped around his stomach. He didn’t even remember being attacked there; just on his arms and legs.

 

“It’s Monday morning,” Derek replied simply.

 

They had traveled into town on Saturday afternoon; he had slept an entire day away. He groaned and grumbled, “No wonder my bladder feels like it’s going to burst.”

 

Derek rolled his eyes and once again slid an arm under him, this time to pick him up out of bed and carry him to the water closet adjoining the bedroom. Unfortunately for Stiles, Derek insisted on remaining with him while he relieved himself and washed up, then carried him back to bed. He tucked Stiles in while Stiles grumbled some more. “Quit. It’s not like we don’t have the same parts.”

 

It was Stiles’ turn to roll his eyes. “That’s not my problem. The problem is you treating me like an invalid.”

 

“Right now you are an invalid,” Derek told him seriously. “Melissa said that you’re not to walk. She had to suture some wounds on your legs and you can’t be trusted not to pull them open accidentally.” Stiles slumped down in the bed grumpily. Derek stood up and walked away. Stiles stared resolutely at his feet under the covers until he couldn’t help but look to see where Derek had gone.

 

He found him sitting in an armchair that was positioned to face the large windows and the door that led to the balcony, with a book in hand. There was another chair beside his and a small round table between the two. Both were angled to face each other and the windows. He looked around the rest of the room and quickly deduced that he was in the master suite of the home; Derek’s bedroom. There was a fireplace across from the bed with a sofa before it and a portrait frame above the mantel that had been covered with some sort of red fabric. Two fully stocked bookcases flanked it on either side. The chairs were far enough away not to impede access to the sofa and be a separate setting area while still close enough to feel the warmth from the fire when needed. He was impressed by how perfectly planned they were for reading in.

 

He wondered if this room had been Derek’s parents’ before the fire; if they had sat in those very chairs to read together, or on the couch to hold each other with their children between them. He wondered if they had a dog that would lie on the rug before the hearth with Derek using it as a pillow and Laura sitting at her mother’s feet, having her hair braided gently. He wondered if Camilla would be in a little rocking cradle beside Derek on the floor so he could gently push it to keep her asleep. He wondered if Derek’s father read to them all while they sat around the crackling fire, snow falling fast and hard outside.

 

He wondered what everyone looked like. Derek’s appearance wasn’t much to theorize with, as his features were forever transfigured. He wondered if Derek had covered the portrait because he couldn’t stand seeing the features he had inherited from them and knowing he couldn’t look in the mirror and find them anymore, or if he had covered it because he just missed them so much. He wondered if he, Laura, and Camille were in the portrait with their parents.

 

“You’re thinking too loudly,” Derek suddenly said from his chair. He stood up and went to the bookcase closest to himself. He grabbed a book at random and carried it over to Stiles. “Here. Read.”

 

Stiles pouted up at him but took the book. “I don’t want to.”

 

Derek once again rolled his eyes at him. “You’re ridiculous. Quit pouting. You’re an adult.” Stiles continued using his doe eyes and pushed out his bottom lip, ignoring Derek’s irritation completely. Derek heaved a heavy sigh. “Do you want to sit on the sofa and read it?” Stiles nodded. Derek huffed. “I repeat; you’re ridiculous.”

 

He scooped Stiles up and carried him to the sofa easily. He yanked the blanket off the back of it and covered Stiles quickly and efficiently. Stiles smiled and said, “Thank you,” with as much exaggerated sweetness as possible.

 

Derek grunted and walked away. Stiles cracked open the book he had been given. Five pages in, Derek walked back in front of the sofa and knelt to stoke the dying fire. Then he sat on the rug with his back against the couch. Stiles smiled. _All that scowling and grumping, but he’s actually worried about me, isn’t he?_

He went back to focusing on the book but only long enough for it to seem unplanned when he started petting Derek’s head as nonchalantly as possible.

 

“I am not an actual dog,” Derek told him, though he didn’t move away.

 

“I know. That doesn’t mean your hair isn’t soft.” Stiles dug his fingers through it happily. It really was.

 

“I don’t like to be pet.”

 

“Then why haven’t you moved away?” Stiles scratched lightly at Derek’s scalp and Derek succumbed to his enjoyment, letting his head drop back in bliss. Stiles grinned. “There. Now isn’t that better than complaining?”

 

“Shut up.” Stiles laughed softly and again turned his eyes back to the book, though now he left one hand buried in Derek’s hair.

 

He could feel it when Derek started to drift off and wondered whether Derek had slept at all while he had been out from his injuries. He wondered again why he was in Derek’s room and under Derek’s care. He would ask about it later; for now, he wanted to help Derek sleep. But first, he did want to say one thing. “Thanks for saving me, Derek. I’m sorry I called you an ass.”

 

“When did you call me an ass?” Derek asked drowsily.

 

“A lot. Not to your face though. It was mostly in my head. But I’m still sorry.” Derek, to his surprise, smiled. Stiles scratched his scalp again.

 

“You’re ridiculous.” Then Derek went to sleep completely. Stiles smiled and ruffled his hair gently before going back to lazily petting it.

  
••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

 

He wasn’t sure when he fell asleep. His hand was still buried in Derek’s hair when he woke up and he was still on the couch. The fire had waned to a tiny glow, his book had fallen to the floor, and Derek was still asleep. He looked around for the reason for him waking up and found Lydia placing a tray of food on the bed. She tiptoed gracefully over to the fireplace and silently coaxed it back into a dancing flame. She then stood up and looked at them. Upon seeing that Stiles was awake, she pressed a finger to her lips and he nodded his understanding.

 

She brought him the tray then leaned down to kiss his head. He smiled up at her. She sat down on the rug beside Derek, waiting to retrieve the empty tray, and closed up both the abandoned books. He drank the orange juice first then ate the oatmeal quickly, suddenly starving at the sight and smell of both. She stood up when he finished and took the tray. Again, she gave him a little kiss on the forehead then practically floated out of the room. Stiles took her careful silence as a sign that his suspicion, that Derek hadn’t slept while caring for him, was definitely true.

 

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

 

“Glad to see you’re feeling better,” Erica said when she brought him and Derek lunch. Derek looked up from the little figurine he was whittling as she breezed into the room, effortlessly carrying a tray in each hand. She put one in Stiles’ lap on the sofa and the other on the floor in front of Derek. “Those berries you picked are delicious. Lydia has them all set aside so you can make us a pie.”

 

Derek made a noise that indicated his irritation. Stiles and Erica both turned their heads to look at him. “Tell me you didn’t get attacked because you stopped to pick berries,” Derek growled, his nose pinched between two fingers and eyes shut.

 

Erica looked like she might laugh. “I’ll be back for the trays.”

 

Stiles made a grab for her arm, trying to prevent her from leaving, but she was already gone. Derek stood up and loomed over him menacingly. “What kind of idiot are you? First you knock on the door of an enchanted house, and then you decide to stop in the middle of the woods – at night – to pick berries.”

 

“I didn’t stop to pick berries!” Stiles snapped defensively. “I stopped to light the lanterns and _saw_ the berries!”

 

Derek shook his head and rolled his eyes. “You’re a complete moron. You don’t _stop_ to light the lanterns. That’s why you go in pairs, remember?”

 

“Lydia was sleeping! I didn’t want to wake her when I was perfectly capable –”

 

“Of getting both of you killed!” Derek cut in angrily.

 

“Lydia was perfectly safe!” Stiles yelled back. “And I wouldn’t have stopped for so long if I didn’t think so!” Derek snarled at him and Stiles couldn’t help but flinch back fearfully. When he raised his eyes again, however, Derek actually looked ashamed of himself. He shifted uncomfortably under Stiles’ softening gaze and Stiles shifted carefully to make a space beside him on the edge of the sofa. Derek sat on the floor with his back against it instead. Stiles reached out and started playing with his hair, twirling the short strands around his fingers then digging them in to scratch at his scalp lightly, just the way he had learned that Derek enjoyed. “It’s okay. I get it, Derek. I do. I’m sorry I scared you.”


	7. The Healed

Stiles found out later in the evening that they had placed him in Derek’s room for two reasons: One, Melissa wanted him carefully watched in case he started showing signs of infection: Two, his father was starting to become lucid and they didn’t want him seeing Stiles injured, and getting upset. He couldn’t help getting excited when he learned that, finally, his father’s own infection was healing and his fever had started abating. Melissa laughed at him and forced him still gently with two hands on his shoulders.

 

“Easy, Stiles. Don’t rip your sutures,” she said as he bounced happily on the sofa. After inspecting said sutures and applying clean bandages, she pronounced the wounds clean and infection free. “However,” she said when he started grinning eagerly, “That doesn’t mean you’re free to return to your bedroom. I want you under constant care for at least another two days. So, as long as Derek doesn’t mind, you’re stuck in here.”

 

Derek shrugged when she looked over at him for approval. She smiled and nodded. “Good.” Then she leaned down and kissed Stiles’ forehead. “Goodnight, Sweetie. Try to be still when you sleep.”

 

She kissed Derek’s cheek and left the room. Derek crouched down to Stiles’ eye level and asked, “Ready for bed?”

 

Stiles nodded and wrapped his arms around Derek’s neck. Derek carried him effortlessly to the bed and tucked him in. Stiles snuggled down under the covers happily while Derek changed into his nightclothes and added wood to the fire. While he yawned and blinked his eyes sleepily, Derek slipped onto the other side of the enormous bed. He heard him yawning too as he drifted off.

 

He woke when Derek got out of bed. The room was pitch black now; no light from the setting sun or crackling fire to allow him to see where his temporary bedmate was. He heard him walking then the light from the fire slowly returned from the room. He could see Derek crouched over, coaxing the flame back silently. He breathed out contently and closed his eyes again. He was grateful; he was starting to feel a bit chilly.

 

Derek returned to the bed and whispered, “It should warm up in here soon.”

 

“I think the temperature already went up once you got under the covers again,” Stiles replied.

 

“Werewolves have a higher body temperature than humans,” Derek told him quietly. He felt him shifting around, trying to get comfortable. He rolled over to face Derek without opening his eyes and hummed happily as the body heat Derek let out in waves, warmed his front.

 

“That’s awesome. Night,” Stiles mumbled. He wasn’t sure he was being particularly articulate, but he was fairly certain he got the message across before falling asleep again.

 

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

 

“How much longer will it be, until I can move around on my own?” Stiles asked Melissa the next morning, when she came to check his stitches. “No offence to Derek, but I’m not having fun being carried everywhere.”

 

Scott gave him his tray with his breakfast and chuckled softly at him. Derek was out on the balcony, doing a ridiculous amount of exercising that would have left any other person feeling completely exhausted. Melissa gave him a soft, understanding smile. “Not much longer. Maybe after lunch. But nothing strenuous. And especially no stairs.”

 

“Even if I take them one at a time?” Stiles asked as cutely as possible. Melissa didn’t look impressed.

 

“Even if you move as slowly as possible and hold the rail for support.” He pouted.

 

“I’m sure finding someone to carry you down won’t be a problem,” Derek spoke up gruffly as he entered the room again. Stiles beamed up at him.

 

“So long as he doesn’t try to go by himself,” Melissa replied reasonably.

 

Stiles stretched his arms above his head and grinned widely. “I can’t wait to move around. I wanna bake some yummy blackberry pie and beat Scott at chess and –”

 

Derek grabbed his wrists and forced his arms down to his sides. “You won’t be doing anything if you pop those stitches.”

 

Stiles’ smile turned bashful under Derek and Melissa’s reproachful glares.

 

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

 

Scott ended up being the one to carry him downstairs that afternoon. He took Stiles down to the kitchen on his back and let him sit on the counter while he and Lydia fixed supper. Stiles was only allowed to cut vegetables, but he was perfectly all right with that, since he got to be somewhere that wasn’t Derek’s bedroom. Not to say that Derek’s bedroom wasn’t cozy, of course, but he wasn’t much for staying in one place for an extended period of time. He could only stare at the same four walls for so long.

 

Scott and Lydia talked to him about his father while they worked. Apparently, Melissa was certain that he was on the road to a full recovery. Derek had already written up a request for Dr. Deaton, which she would be delivering tomorrow, asking for a second dose of the memory erasing potion, because soon he would be mobile and the potion for Stiles was going to take another month to make. Apparently altering his memory was favored to locking him in the basement. Stiles definitely preferred it.

 

He was happily cutting carrots when Derek came in and walked straight to him, completely ignoring Scott and Lydia. “Your dad’s awake. Do you want to go see him?”

 

Stiles nodded. Derek turned and lifted him up onto his back effortlessly. “Has he already seen you?”

 

“Not me. But he saw Isaac. He was about twenty times more startled than you. More scared too. But he calmed down when Melissa told him why he was with us,” Derek replied as he carried him up the stairs.

 

Once outside his and his father’s room, Derek finally let him down. As he was smoothing out his shirt, Isaac suddenly appeared with a stack of clothes. They both helped Stiles into them, covering all his injuries with the longer breaches and new shirt that had a higher collar and lengthier sleeves.

Then he and Derek went inside.

 

"Stiles!" his dad greeted as soon as they walked in. Stiles went to his side quickly and felt Melissa smiling fondly while they hugged. John released him and Stiles sat at the foot of the bed to grin at him and talk. The sheets had been changed, he noted; so had his father's nightshirt. "You must be Derek. Melissa said you'd be the one with the red eyes."

 

Derek nodded and shook the offered hand. "I hear I owe you some thanks," John said while Derek looked uncomfortable.

 

"No, sir, I didn't do anything special," Derek told him firmly, shaking his head as John finally released his hand. "Melissa's the one who actually saved your life."

 

Melissa shook her head and collected the water pitcher from the bedside table. “Don’t act like what you did was nothing. I’m getting fresh water. Make sure he stays put.”

 

John smiled as he watched her walk out. “She seems to be a fairly interesting woman.”

 

“You’ll love her,” Stiles promised happily. He crossed his legs underneath himself and leaned forward. “How’re you feeling?”

 

“Much better,” John replied, smiling at him now. “It’s nice to have some energy.” He squinted at Stiles curiously and said, “I’d love to know why you’re here though.”

 

“I came looking for you. There was a search party but they gave up after, like, a month.  Assholes.”  His dad laughed and dropped his head back against the headboard. Stiles grinned. “Allison was supposed to send out a search party for me but the deadline for that passed about two weeks ago, so I’m assuming either they already gave up or she just couldn’t convince anyone to go look.”

 

“Won’t she come look for you herself eventually?” John asked. They both knew Allison wasn’t the sort to just leave him out in the woods unfound.

 

But still Stiles shook his head. “Nah. Her dad would never let her do that. He’d rather lock her up in an ivory tower than let her go running through the woods after two people already managed to get completely lost in there.”

 

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

 

Stiles reluctantly went back to sleep in his room that night. He was pleased to be with his father, of course, but Derek’s bed was so comfortable and warm. And it was separate from the other bedrooms, which was a definite perk. There were usually loud arguments in the morning. Scott and Isaac alone had a tendency to sound like a herd of hogs pounding down the hall and down the stairs. Then there were Boyd and Erica across the hall, who had a daily fight when Erica refused to get out of bed. And then, of course, Jackson had to choose someone at random to scare awake.

 

Before he drifted off to sleep, he thought only of how much he was going to hate this room come morning.

 

Stiles woke hours later when the door to his room creaked open. He hadn't been sleeping very deeply to begin with. The fire had gone out a while ago and he didn't want to leave the semi-warmth of his bed to go light it again.

 

In the darkness, Derek's eyes were bright and piercing, almost alarmingly so.

 

"Did I wake you?" he whispered. Stiles shook his head and wrapped his blankets tighter around himself, preparing to sit up. Derek stopped him quickly by saying, "Stay there. I just came to light the fire."

 

Stiles smiled gratefully. "Thank you."

 

"No problem," Derek replied. "I do a fire check for Melissa and Lydia too when it's cold."

 

Stiles couldn't resist. He grinned and said, "Aw! Well, aren't you just the sweetest wolfman ever?"

 

 The glow of Derek's eyes turned on him and he could almost feel his in amused expression. "You realize I could easily smother you?"

 

Stiles just kept on grinning. Derek lit the fire and took a spare blanket from the trunk at the foot of the bed. Stiles hummed happily as Derek covered him with it. He almost thought he saw a fond smile on Derek's face, but he quickly dismissed the notion and the shadows hid his face before he could double check.

 

As Derek was leaving, Stiles closed his eyes and said, "Thanks, Derek."

 

"You're welcome, Stiles," he replied. "Goodnight."

 

"Night. Sleep well." He was already falling asleep as the door clicked shut behind Derek, thoughts for the morning horrors far away now.

 

He dreamed of what everyone would look like if they weren't cursed. He dreamt of how beautiful Derek must have been.

 

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

 

Derek let him read in his room the next day. The morning arguments had spread to most everyone in the house and lasted most of the whole day and he just couldn't escape the shouting anywhere else. He went into Derek's room to ask him to break it up and found it blissfully silent.

 

Derek was reading, too, in one of the chairs by the big window and barely looked up when Stiles barged in. Noticing that Stiles had frozen, silently, as the door shut behind him, Derek spoke. "The spare's yours if you want it."

 

Stiles hesitated for a moment. Someone should really deal with the fighting. Deciding that it should be someone else, he plopped down in the chair across from Derek's and opened his book again. They shared the footstool and read their books in silence. By the time Stiles looked up again, the sun was going down and Derek had nodded off in his seat.

 

He smiled as he watched Derek sleep and finally stood up to collect the blanket from the bed and draped it over the werewolf. He started to leave but then something caught his eye; the covered frame about the fireplace. Surely a little peek wouldn’t hurt. With a precautionary glance at Derek, he crept over and pulled the drape away. What he saw when it fluttered down broke his heart; a beautiful painting of an absolutely stunning family. The child of ten years old who looked almost exactly like his mother drew his eyes first, then he glanced at her. She was lovely, with shoulder length hair loose around her shoulders except for two thin braids that met in the back of her head, green eyes that were lighter than the simple green dress she was wearing but still enhanced by it, and the most wonderful smile he had ever seen, outshining the jewels around her neck. She held a baby in her arms, wrapped up in white blankets with just the tiniest bit of pale pink cheek peeking out. Her son, who sat on the ground at her feet, was undoubtedly Derek. With green eyes, just like her, he was young but obviously on the path to attractiveness. His elder sister stood beside their mother's chair in a lavender gown while his father stood behind all of them with a prideful half-smile and neatly pressed suit. He wore spectacles. His daughter looked just like him. They had brown eyes and almost black hair and were just as attractive as Derek and his mother.

 

He could just see Derek all grown up. He could see him without his fangs and sideburns, without the red eyes. And he was so lovely. His father's jaw line and eyebrows, his mother's eye color and his father's eye shape, his mother's skin and cheekbones, and her smile. He hated Kate even more for depriving their ugly world of his beauty.

 

Not that Derek was hideous as a werewolf. He wasn't, though Stiles still didn't understand where his eyebrows went. But still, Derek would have been absolutely devastating in his human form.

 

He wondered if, because he was stuck with his red Alpha eyes, he missed seeing his mother's eyes in the mirror. Stiles had taken years to learn how to look in the mirror and not cry when he saw his mother's gaze looking back at him. But to have that taken from him.... It would kill him.

 

He didn't startle when two clawed hands gripped his shoulders, too wrapped up in sadness and sympathy to be surprised. Besides, he didn't fear clawed hands anymore.

 

Derek pressed his head to the back of Stiles' and whispered, "Nosy," softy.

 

Stiles snorted. "A bit. I couldn't resist."

 

"Haven't you heard the expression, curiosity killed the cat?" Derek asked.

 

"I have but I don't think that cat was very bright." Derek huffed a laugh as he rubbed Stiles' arms from shoulder to elbow and back. Stiles wanted to burrow back into his arms and let himself be comforted. But he had to ask, "Why do you cover it?"

 

"It makes me sad," Derek replied quietly. Stiles nodded his understanding. He released his grip on the fabric he had pulled away, vowing to replace it later. Then he turned around and hugged Derek as firmly as he could, because Derek deserved a hug.

 

Derek held him in return and hid his face in his neck. Stiles couldn't help but laugh a little when his fangs tickled his skin. "Did they stop fighting yet?"

 

"Yes," Derek replied, pulling away but leaving his arms around Stiles. "They do that sometimes. It's cabin fever. They have to blow off steam."

 

Stiles nodded his understanding and said, "It's going to get cold soon. Maybe they can get some time in town."

 

"How do you mean?" Derek asked. His nonexistent eyebrows furrowed with his confusion and he turned his head to look at Stiles.

 

Stiles cocked an eyebrow at him. "Are you serious? You don't see how it being cold means they can go to town?"

 

The door burst open and in spilled all four betas, plus Lydia. Stiles and Derek both looked at the broken door and Derek heaved a sigh. "We can go to town?" Erica asked excitedly. "How?"

 

"Were you listening?" Stiles asked instead of answering.

 

"Stiles!" Erica insisted.

 

He shook his head at them all and said, "You're all determined to keep yourselves in eternal misery." No one looked amused. "Scarves! Gloves! Hats! It's winter! Everyone is wearing them! Girls in their bonnets with scarves to keep their cheeks and lips from getting chapped! Men with their thick gloves and hats pulled low! Even kids run around absolutely covered! Take advantage!"

 

"We wouldn't look suspicious like that?" Derek asked.

 

"No one wants to be away from their fireplaces long enough to think anyone else looks suspicious. And they all assume that anyone else bundled up is just as eager to get their errands done and get out of the snow. They don't question a glint of color near the eyes, even. They just want to hurry on and get everything done." He shrugged and said, “Most people are pretty self-involved.”

 

“We can go to town!” Erica cried excitedly. Everyone burst into eager chatter and Stiles smiled too, happy to see everyone so excited.

 

"All right, everyone. Settle down. We need to-" Derek cut himself off because no one was listening. Lydia was talking quickly about clothes, Erica was squeezing Boyd's hand and chattering happily about where she wanted to go, and Scott and Isaac were talking about seeing if they could get their hands on some sweets and wine. Stiles, for once, was silent, waiting for Derek to silence them. Derek growled in agitation then shouted, "EVERYONE SHUT UP!" 

 

The room went still and quiet. Stiles stifled the urge to laugh.

 

Derek huffed and said, "Better. Now, I know everyone's very excited. But we can't just stroll into town without planning and rules."

 

"We're not children!" Lydia protested.

 

"I'm still not convinced of that," Derek replied monotonously. She did not look amused. "First of all, you have to remember that no one will remember you.  They won't remember you ever coming to the village before. That will raise suspicions. So we will all have to be cautious."

 

"We're not stupid," Erica told him unhappily.

 

"I know that, but excitement makes you careless. Carelessness gets you killed." Stiles nodded his support but everyone – including Derek - gave him a look that said to stop and shut up.

 

Derek sighed and rubbed his temples. "We'll talk more about it after dinner. Everyone out. Now."

 

Reluctantly, everyone obeyed. Everyone except Stiles, of course. Derek looked at him as everyone else left and said, "I said _everyone_ out."

 

Stiles smiled at him and replied, "Yes. Yes, you did. But I didn't want to." Derek rolled his eyes. "I bet we could take a door from somewhere else in the house to replace yours. Maybe one of theirs, even. I think Erica and Boyd’s door is the same size.”

 

Derek grinned.


	8. The Playful

They started planning for the outing into town. While exit strategies and cover stories were plotted, Lydia, Isaac, and Stiles knitted and crocheted scarves, hats, and gloves; all perfectly sized to hide claws and pointed ears, using Derek and Scott as their test dummies. Stiles took great delight in forcing Derek into his hat once Isaac had finished it.

 

Derek made his dad crutches and offered to move one of the beds from their room down to the only bedroom on the bottom floor, so John could go lie down without hassle or danger while they were out. John declined, reminding Derek that he could, in fact, stretch out on the sofa very easily. Melissa continued to care for him diligently, but slowly began to offer him freedom as he learned to walk on his crutches. Stiles loved seeing him hobbling through the halls, both for the amusement of the way his father moved and because it was a sign of his increasing health.

 

While they talked almost constantly about the outing into town, they still spent much of their time lounging around after completing their chores. Having his father sit in the living room with everyone made that down time one hundred times better for Stiles.

 

About two days after his father started moving about they found themselves with nearly nothing to do. It was another two days until their planned outing and snow was coming down hard and fast outside. Not even the wolves were eager to go outside, though they did like to boast about their naturally heated bodies. The house was clean, the wood baskets were filled with extra wood stacked beside in all the rooms, and dinner was cooking slowly in the kitchen. Lydia and Stiles had worked together to make stew. Derek had gone out and hunted two bunnies for them before the snow hit. Stiles took great pleasure in teasing him, until Derek threatened to leave them for Stiles to skin. There was nothing to do while they waited for dinner and everyone was twitchy with anticipation, for not only the outing but the piles of snow they would get to play in once the storm stopped.

 

For a long time, they had all sat around the window bench and played cards, using the different sweets and nuts that everyone had requested on the last grocery run, as their currency. But eventually, the game diminished in players until only Derek, Boyd, and Isaac were left to play with Stiles’ father. The others had either grown bored or lost irreparably. Lydia had beaten everyone so easily that she declared the game pointless and moved to sit by the hearth and continue working on her new winter bonnet. Melissa opted for writing letters at the table in the corner. Erica sat on one end of the sofa and read while she ate some of her winnings. Stiles sat on the sofa and read as well, but just for a while, because he quickly found himself distracted by Erica. Specifically, by watching her use her claws to carefully pinch the nuts between them and bring them to her lips.

 

"It truly amazes me that you guys function so well with those claws," he blurted.

 

"Manners," his dad reminded him firmly.

 

"It's fine. We're used to his particular abrasiveness," Erica told him as she smirked at Stiles. He turned up onto his knees to talk to her, then reached forward and stole a walnut from her little bowl.

 

"Why not just cut them?" he asked curiously. “Don’t they bother you?”

 

Erica licked one of said claws and folded the corner of a page down gracefully. She then turned to look at him. “All the time. But cutting them would be like ripping yours out.” He flinched at the thought. He had read about that particular torture technique in a book once; his stomach had rolled for hours. “Wanna feel one?”

 

“If I say yes, are you going to cut me?” he replied hesitantly. She rolled her eyes and smirked but gave no answer. He reluctantly nodded. She held out her hand and he tentatively took hold of her fingers. Watching her closely to make sure she wasn’t going to lurch forward and slice his carotid or something, he started poking at her claws carefully. She let him bend them and turn her hand to examine them and only jerked them towards him once to scare him. He could feel Derek and Scott watching protectively.

 

The only reason he eventually had to release her was Boyd finally growling, “That’s enough!” loudly. He dropped her hand like it burned. She laughed. Stiles turned his head just in time to see Derek quell a snarling Boyd with a ferocious growl of his own. Boyd flinched and stood up. Erica gracefully unfolded her legs from under herself and stood up in one fluid movement to follow him out.

 

“She did that so he’d get mad, didn’t she?” Stiles asked the room. He received nods from everyone except his father, who looked fairly concerned. Stiles rolled his eyes. “That woman,” he grumbled. He slid into Erica’s seat and picked up the bowl of nuts. “She’s crazy. I’m taking her snack.”

 

“You need to be more careful,” Scott said. “One of these days she’s going to use you to work him up and he’ll hurt you.”

 

“No, he won’t,” Stiles replied calmly. He threw a walnut at Jackson on the floor beside Lydia and Jackson jerked his scaly head up to catch it. “His temper isn’t that bad. And besides, he knows he’d get in trouble.”

 

“Throw him a peanut,” Lydia requested. Stiles dug one out and threw it. Jackson’s tongue shot out and caught it before it could hit Lydia’s face. Stiles flinched and smiled guiltily. “On second thought, no more throwing.”

 

“This is serious,” Derek said suddenly. “Boyd’s temper _is_ that bad, Stiles. He’s a wolf in love. And she uses that to make him mad, for some insane reason. You’re new. You’re the perfect person to use. You have to be careful. One day, he’ll snap and, knowing Erica, it’ll be the day when none of us are around to stop him.”

 

Stiles frowned. Derek collected his “money” and handed his cards over to Isaac, the dealer. Stiles looked up at Derek as he walked over and nodded seriously. “I promise I’ll be careful.”

 

Derek thanked him with a look, rather than words, and then sat on the sofa. He dropped his head back and sighed, stressed. “I’ll try to get her to stop.”

 

Stiles knew exactly what he needed and turned so his back was against the arm of the sofa and his knees could be used to prop up his book. Derek seemed to realize that Stiles was offering and turned to lean against Stiles’ legs and stretch out. Stiles happily started to play with his hair.

 

“You two are just getting chummier and chummier, aren’t you?” Lydia remarked, seemingly without looking up from her sewing.

 

“They really are,” Scott said agreeably. Stiles had never seen him look more like a puppy before than he did right then, with his head cocked to the side and his eyes squinted in curiosity, as he stared at him and Derek.

 

“We can’t be chummy?” Stiles said with a little huff of laughter.

 

“Not if it means you like Derek better than us,” Isaac replied sullenly. Stiles laughed again, much louder.

 

“Aw, does the poor puppy want some petting?” Stiles teased affectionately. He could feel Derek shaking with his suppressed laughter against his calves; Scott grinned. Isaac smiled, just a little, then barked playfully and crawled over. Stiles let go of his book and started petting his curls instead. He leaned over and pursed his lips so his words came out distorted, like they would if he were cooing at a baby, only ten times worse. “Well, aren’t you just the cutest little puppy ever?”

 

Isaac bit him.

 

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

 

Derek tried to ignore Melissa staring at him in favor of watching Stiles and the betas lob snowballs back and forth; but eventually, he had to turn and meet her gaze. She was smiling softly and had that obnoxious I-know-something-you-don't look on her face that he had come to dread. "What?" he asked unhappily.

 

"I've known you for six years, three of those years with your sister alive. I've never seen you smile as much as you have since he came along," she replied softly. She took a step closer and he followed her gaze to where Stiles was scrambling clumsily up a large pile of snow to hide behind it. "Have you thought  maybe, he just might be the one to break the curse?"

 

Derek turned his back on the yard and all but whispered, "Yes. Very seriously."

 

"Then you have to talk to him!" Melissa said firmly. "Tell him! Ask him if there's any way he could!"

 

"You know the taboo surrounding homosexuality in the human world. He's not likely to understand. And even if he did, he might not even be capable of returning my affections." Derek looked down sadly and said, "I could drive him away."

 

"How do you know if you don't try?" Melissa asked. Derek didn't answer and she didn't press, just went back into the house to tend to John.

 

Derek wasn't alone five minutes before Stiles popped up beside him to say, "You are killing my good mood. Get your ass down here. You're going to help me win the snow war."

 

Derek smiled softly and pushed away from the wall. He hopped off the steps and Stiles backed up to give him room. "Snow war, huh? Snow fights not good enough for you?"

 

"We're grownups. We go to war," Stiles told him. Derek hummed and started walking forward. Stiles jumped up on his back and shouted, "Onward to victory!" while pointing at the others.

 

Derek dropped him in the nearest pile of snow.

 

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

 

"You realize they're going to be a complete disaster when we actually go to town, right?" Derek said the night after the Snow War. (Twenty good snowmen died, ten were wounded. They all received medals for their bravery.) Everyone was lying around the sitting room, tired from their day of play and full from the wonderful dinner Melissa had put together. Derek was on the floor with his head against Stiles' hip, while Stiles lazily pet his head.

 

"Ye of little faith," he teased with a yawn. "They'll be fine."

 

He, of course, ate his words. The others in the pack were absolutely _insane_ on the day of their outing.

 

Scott was bouncing on his heels whenever he was supposed to be standing still, Isaac's eyes were constantly wide like he was stuck in an unwavering state of shock, Erica was snapping at anyone and everyone who so much a looked at her, and Lydia had decided her entire wardrobe was disgusting and that she wanted to create a whole new one before stepping a single toe into town. Boyd was being his typical, stoic self, with the only exception to his behavior being that he was too scared to get within a foot of Erica. The only normal one was Jackson, who was sulking on any ceiling Lydia was under, per usual. Derek kept raising his stupid, nonexistent eyebrows at Stiles in a very clear, "I told you so," gesture. Stiles continually told himself that calling Derek a jackass was not going to improve the situation.

 

However, miraculously, by the time they were set to load into the sleigh and go, everyone had somehow pulled themselves together. Lydia was strutting in a gorgeous white and pink gown with a matching white bonnet, fur lined tan cloak, and matching tan fur muff as if she were the queen of all and everything, much per usual. Erica had calmed herself down enough that Boyd could hold her hand without her breaking his. Scott and Isaac were taking deep breaths behind their scarves, but had calmed otherwise. Derek seemed impressed and Stiles was indescribably relieved.

 

Melissa kissed Stiles, Scott, and Isaac on their foreheads and made them promise her yet again to be careful and look out for each other while Derek checked the harnesses attached to Je and Cam "just one more time" for the fourth time. Lydia was aggressively scolding Erica for disheveling her braid when they joined them outside beside the beautiful covered sleigh. Derek was driving alone, despite Stiles' desire to sit shotgun for him. He had been scolded and told that it was far too cold for him to sit shotgun when he asked. His protests and insistences that he could wrap himself up in a couple blankets and be perfectly warm were ignored and probably not believed.

 

"We have time to fix it," Erica snapped at Lydia before yanking her braid out of her hands. "Not that it matters. My scarf is going to cover it, remember?"

 

Lydia huffed. "A lady should desire her appearance to be flawless no matter who might or might not see."

 

Stiles quickly stepped in to end the fight before it started. "You both look beautiful; now please get in so we can go."

 

Lydia huffed yet again and walked to the step into the sleigh. Isaac played footman and helped her - and her skirt - in. She took up her seat with the most irritated expression Stiles had ever seen on her face. Erica let Isaac help her in as well, though purely because she seemed strangely unbalanced in her own clothes. It threw everyone else as well, to see her in a gown and cloak instead of trousers and someone's shirt that didn't quite fit. But the fight that had erupted between her and Lydia when she said she would be dressing as a male to go into town had been horrible and loud. To everyone's surprise, Erica eventually caved and said she would wear whatever Lydia wanted, so long as she shut up.

 

Isaac checked to make sure the cover was set into place then climbed up to take his seat. Boyd and Erica flanked Lydia to keep her warm, while Scott and Isaac had Stiles wedged between them. Stiles handed Boyd a blanket to cover him and the girls with, then covered him and his own seating companions. As soon as he was finished, Isaac declared them all ready and the sleigh began to move.

 

Melissa waved from the front stoop with a smile. “Have fun! Behave yourselves!”

 


	9. The Town

They divided, without words, into small groups. Scott and Isaac immediately went into the general store in search of things to make them even more energetic. Lydia gripped Erica's arm to keep her seated until Boyd was ready to help them down. Stiles actually saw her dig her nails into Erica and once down, she linked her arm with her and guided her to the fabric shop. Boyd followed. That left Stiles and Derek to pick a destination. They both looked around for a moment, and then Stiles looked at Derek and said, "The book shop is around the corner."

 

Derek nodded. Stiles knew that Derek’s expression was eager under his scarf and hat, and wished he could see more than his eyes.

 

They left the sleigh in front of the general store and headed over to find the book store. Once found and inside, they immediately parted ways within the store. Derek went to the far end of the wall length shelf while Stiles went to the end across from the door. As they both started browsing for something worth buying, the shop owner came out of the back room and greeted them with a cheerful, “Welcome!” Stiles grinned at him but Derek kept his eyes on the books, following the number one rule that had been set for the outing. No eye contact.

 

“Can I help you gentlemen find anything?” the shop keep asked.

 

“Um,” Stiles said thoughtfully. He looked over to Derek and he shook his head. “Nope. We’ve got it, I think. We’re mostly just looking for anything that catches our eyes. But thank you.”

 

The old man nodded, still smiling, and went to sit behind the counter. “We have a great lending policy, if it’s needed.”

 

“We prefer to buy,” Derek replied almost immediately with his eyes completely on the books. Stiles saw an eager gleam in the old man’s eyes.

 

“Very good, sir. Very good indeed,” he said excitedly. Stiles turned back to the shelf and grinned to himself.

 

Derek slid up alongside him and said, “Anything you want, I’ll get it for you.”

 

Stiles looked at him out of the corner of his eyes and smirked playfully. “Don’t make me swoon. We’re in public.”

 

He saw the smile in Derek’s eyes before they both went back to browsing. If their fingers touched a few times over the spine of a book, they nor the elderly shopkeeper commented on it.

 

They left the shop with an armful of books each. The old man looked like he might die of happiness. They took the books back to the sleigh and went into the general store to see why Isaac and Scott hadn’t left yet. They saw a little boy trying to reach a jar of preserves almost as soon as they entered. Before Stiles could get it down for him, Derek did it first. He handed the jar over to the little guy and said, “That the right one?” The kid nodded with a shy, but grateful, smile. “Give it a year,” Derek told him. “You won’t need anyone’s help.”

 

The kid’s smile grew into a grin. “That’s what my mama says too.”

 

“Then it must be true,” Stiles chimed in. “Mama’s are always right.” The little boy nodded enthusiastically and Stiles smiled.

 

As the boy thanked them and went to get the rest of his purchases, Derek left Stiles’ side to talk to the woman behind the shop counter. Stiles went to Scott and Isaac at the back of the shop. They were discussing – almost arguing – about what ingredients went into a chocolate cake. Stiles started to correct them both when they went silent and turned their heads just slightly towards Derek. He shut his mouth immediately, as he had come to recognize when they were listening to something he couldn’t hear. A nudge of his elbow against Scott’s ribs prompted him began to repeat what he was hearing.

 

“Derek’s giving Ms. Alders money for the little boy’s groceries and asking her to put candy in for him and any siblings,” Scott told him under his voice. Stiles could tell he was smiling. He was also impressed that Scott had already learned the shop keeper’s name. “Ms. Alders is asking why.”

 

“Derek says that the little guy reminds him of someone and seems sweet. Ms. Alders is saying that he is. A great help to his widowed mother and the eldest of four babies. She’s asking if he wants the boy to know who paid and gave him the sweets.”

 

“And Derek is telling her no,” Stiles said, knowing, without having to hear, exactly how Derek would respond to that. “Absolutely not. His intentions aren’t as pure as she thinks; because the little boy reminds him of a dead cousin who loved sweets quite a bit, though he’s not telling her that.” He turned to look at the candy shelf and continued on. “Now he’s going to walk over to us, leaving her to wonder who the generous and humble stranger, buried under layers of clothes, might be.”

 

“Am I truly that predictable?” Derek asked, right on cue.

 

Stiles smiled. “To some.” He could feel Derek’s fond gaze on the back of his head. “That was nice of you.”

 

“Since you know me so well after barely over a month, you must know that it wasn’t really.” Derek took the bag of flour Stiles shoved at him and leaned on the shelf beside him.

 

“No matter what you think, it really was,” Stiles returned.

 

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

 

Stiles noticed Scott fidgeting first. It was hard not to, since they were all crowded into the corner table of the town’s only tavern and Scott and he were literally rubbing elbows. They had chosen the corner table so the wolves could lower their scarves, bow their heads, and eat. It was dark in the corner. Stiles was wedged between Derek and Scott and watching Scott twist and rub the corner of the handkerchief tied around his wrist, a sign he was lost in thought.

 

He nudged Scott gently and Scott turned his yellow eyes to him with the tiniest start. “You all right, Scott?”

 

Everyone paused to look and check on their pack mate. Scott smiled nervously and nodded. “Yes, fine. Sorry. Just … daydreaming. Wishing we were able to visit Beacon Hills. I wish… I wish I could get just one look at her.”

 

Stiles smiled. “Aw,” he teased. Scott elbowed him vengefully and flushed. Stiles laughed. When he was done, he gently said, “Want me to describe her to you?” Scott looked up at him again and nodded eagerly. “Well, she’s got dimples. Adorable dimples. I poke them when we tease each other.”

 

Scott grinned. Stiles continued. “Brown eyes. Sometimes, when the light isn’t great, they look almost black. Dark brown hair; about the same color as yours, actually. Fair skin,” he described; a picture of his friend in his mind’s eye. “Great smile. Great teeth. Um… Thin. But she still has good curves. Good height. Again, about the same as yours. She has cheekbones that could cut you.”

 

“What a lovely picture you paint,” Lydia drawled. It was too dark to see, but Stiles knew she was rolling her eyes at him.

 

“Forgive me for not waxing poetic about my friend’s beauty,” he snipped. “I figured that was Scott’s job.” He knew without looking that Scott’s blush was back in full force.

 

Lydia acted like she hadn’t heard him. “Perhaps when we return home, you could give a better description and I could attempt to draw her.”

 

Scott looked at Stiles hopefully. “Please?”

 

Stiles smiled at him. “Sure.” He looked at Lydia and said, “But you’ll have to be patient with me and my lacking descriptive abilities, dear Lydia,” irritably.

 

She smirked. “I dare think I shall, dear Stiles.” She brought her tea cup to her lips and sipped elegantly. “Very patient indeed.”

 

“Lydia,” Derek said warningly. “That’s enough.” Stiles and Lydia both leaned back in their seats away from each other. Derek slid his hand onto Stiles’ leg under the table.

 

“You’re hardly one to talk. Not two weeks ago, you were the one to treat Stiles the worst,” Lydia reminded him petulantly.

 

“And I regret that,” Derek nearly growled at her. Stiles took up the hand on his knee. Derek looked at him and said, “You know I only treated you badly because I was worried for my pack, right?”

 

Stiles nodded, smiling, and said, “But you should still apologize. You caused me quite a bit of fright.”

 

Derek smiled softly, careful not to expose his fangs, and said, “I’m very, very sorry, Stiles. Forgive me?”

 

Stiles nodded again. “Of course. I don’t forgive Lydia though. She’s grumpy without any reason.” Lydia kicked him under the table and he winced in pain. Dropping Derek’s hand to rub his undoubtedly bruised shin, he hissed, “Lydia!” angrily. “Uncalled for!”

 

Lydia rolled her eyes and Derek stood up immediately, yanking on his scarf as he walked around the table and hauled her up by her elbow. He dragged her outside the restaurant and forced her to stand facing him. “What the hell is wrong with you?” he barked so loudly that most everyone on the street turned to look at them.

 

Lydia waited for them to look away before she replied. “You two hold hands and touch near constantly, go everywhere together, and parent us, yet you haven’t asked yet?” she snapped angrily. “Do you want us to stay cursed?”

 

“You aren’t cursed,” he reminded her curtly.

 

To his surprise, she yanked her hand from her muff to slap him across the cheek. Again, everyone outside turned their attention to them. She lowered her voice but he knew she was just as angry as when she had been shouting. “How dare you,” she said furiously. He flared his eyes at her. She scoffed, unaffected. “You forget that the love of my life hasn’t been able to put his arms around me in three years. I may not be cursed the way the rest of you are, but I am still cursed. Every day, I live with this curse, the same as you. Every day, I wait for you to break it so I can marry my love and begin my life. My curse lies in the wait and the uncertainty.”

 

Derek’s expression gentled. She looked down and said, “I can’t handle it. I’m getting older. I want to be married. I want to have children. I want to see my grandchildren before I die. The longer it takes to break this curse, the less chance I have of accomplishing that.” She straightened her back again and looked up at him after a pause. “Ask him. Ask him if there is even the tiniest chance he could love you one day. Before the potion’s ready. Or I might not be able to wait any longer.”

 

Derek put his hands on her shoulders and leaned down to meet her eyes. “I know you’re struggling and I’m sorry. But you know that that’s not how human love works.” She looked ready to start yelling again. He tightened his grip on her shoulders and said, “Humans don’t reach the level of devotion wolves do in less than two months. I don’t even know whether or not they _could_ reach that level of devotion. But I have a plan, all right? And I’d like you to trust me to know what I’m doing.”

 

Lydia frowned at him just slightly, obviously confused by his claim of a plan. Then she slowly nodded. He smiled at her under his scarf and nodded back. “Thank you.”

 

“Don’t let me down, Derek. I’ll burn your food for a year, I swear to God.”

 

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

 

They joined the others inside again and Lydia apologized for kicking Stiles begrudgingly. He accepted cheerfully and held out his fork. “You have to try this apple pie. It’s amazing.”

 

She accepted Erica’s offered fork instead. He wrinkled up his nose at her while she smirked, then turned to Derek and held out the fork. Derek leaned forward and bit. Stiles waited while he chewed, grinning like he knew exactly what he was going to say. However, his grin faltered to a confused expression when, rather than singing the praises everyone else had, Derek shook his head and said, “I’ve had better.”

 

“When?” Isaac scoffed as he ate his own.

 

“The first one that Stiles made for us,” Derek replied. Stiles gave him a pleased, flattered smile.

 

“Kiss up,” Scott muttered as the waitress who had been flirting with him since they entered returned with two slices of pie for Derek and Lydia. He started fidgeting with the handkerchief again.

 

After setting their plates down, she leaned just slightly on the table and fluttered her eyelashes at him. “Anything else I can get you all?” she asked, never taking her eyes of Scott’s hunched over form. “More water, maybe some lemonade?”

 

“I think we’re fine for now. Thank you though,” Lydia answered for the table. The waitress smiled, nodded, and reluctantly walked off. “Honestly, Scott. She can’t even see your face. What pheromones do you release?”

 

“If I knew, I’d stop,” he replied sullenly.

 

“It’s not healthy to be devoted to someone you’ve never met,” Boyd told him under his breath.

 

“I’ll meet her one day,” Scott snipped determinedly. He gripped the handkerchief and straightened just enough so they would all see his serious expression.  “I don’t care what I have to do, I will meet her.”

 


	10. The Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't like the title I gave this one either... Sorry

Boyd drove the sleigh home with Erica at his side. Derek took Isaac’s spot beside Stiles and he moved to sit by Lydia. By the time they made it home, everyone but Boyd and Derek were asleep, and Derek was just barely holding on to consciousness. The only thing keeping him from falling asleep was the fact that Stiles was drooling on his shoulder and it was both uncomfortable and oddly endearing.

 

When they got home, the sun had gone down and the moon was just beginning to rise over the trees. Boyd guided the horses directly to the barn while Derek jumped out to open the doors. They removed the harnesses from the horses and got them fed and put in their stalls before they woke the others. Boyd skipped waking Erica and instead just gathered her up and carried her out of the barn and to the house. Lydia whined sleepily when Isaac rose and stretched, having lost her pillow. Derek climbed up into the sleigh and picked her up. She wrapped her arms around his neck and mumbled something even he couldn’t understand.

 

Stiles followed directly behind him while Scott and Isaac lagged behind; all three still half asleep but totting the purchases diligently. Derek nearly managed to tread on Jackson’s tail when he came to greet Lydia at the door. “Damn it, Jackson,” he hissed irritably. “Move.”

 

Jackson hissed angrily but Stiles knew he had obeyed nonetheless. Scott took the sack he had taken from the sleigh and shooed him up the stairs. “You’ve helped Lydia with the laundry, go show him where she keeps her nightdresses,” he ordered weakly. Isaac nudged him in the right direction when he stumbled off towards the backdoor again.

 

Stiles chuckled at him under his breath and followed Derek; Jackson was beside him on the ground. Stiles could hear his nails clacking on the wood of the steps and up to the hallway floor. “Worrywart,” Stiles accused with a yawn.

 

Jackson didn’t even bother hissing at him.

 

Derek had Lydia on her bed already and was removing her shoes gently when Stiles joined him. He lit the fire then went to the wardrobe and took out some nightclothes. Jackson was upside down on the wall above the bed, looking down at Lydia with the softest expression manageable for his reptilian face. Stiles guided Lydia to sit up and she started unpinning her hair. “Help,” she mumbled when they didn’t start helping her with her gown immediately.

 

Stiles took off her cloak and tossed it to Derek. He hung it up and put it away. Next went the rest of her dress, which took far too long for them to both figure out and remove. Lydia allowed them to wait on her and drifted in and out of consciousness to laugh at them. Derek lifted her up once they had her clothed and Stiles turned down the sheets. They tucked her in and started to leave. As he turned to shut the door, Stiles saw Jackson climb down from the wall and slip under the blankets to lie beside her.

 

“Hi, love,” he heard Lydia whisper. “I missed you.”

 

Stiles smiled and shut the door. Derek walked with him to his room then carried on with a half-yawned, “Goodnight, Stiles. Sleep well.”

 

“You too,” Stiles replied. He barely managed to get changed before falling onto his bed. He wasn’t even too sure he managed to do that.

 

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

 

Stiles was working with Isaac and Scott to fill the wood baskets for each room when Lydia came running into the hall, leading from the back door and grabbed his arm. Before she could say anything, however, Isaac and Scott jumped over the steps to the door and dropped their arm loads of wood hastily. Stiles almost started to scold them, because now that had bark pieces to clean up as well as wood to sort into the baskets, but they spoke before he could even draw breath to scold them.

 

"There's someone coming up the road," they both said urgently. Lydia huffed irritably. Stiles fought back a smile.

 

Scott looked at Stiles with wide eyes and said, “They’re talking about you.”

 

 Stiles frowned. Scott and Isaac yanked off their gloves and dropped them as well. Lydia shut the door and locked it then followed the wolves toward the front hall. Stiles looked down at the mess in the back hallway and sighed. If this ended up being a false alarm, he was going to kill someone.

 

Stiles met Derek by the front door. He was peering through the curtains stealthily and had his shoulders set in a tense line. Stiles peeked through the curtains on the window opposite Derek and waited for whoever was coming down the road to come into view.

 

He could hear them shouting now, though it was muffled through the glass. They sounded like they were arguing with each other.

 

They finally came into view. Walking beside a pinto horse that Stiles immediately recognized, were his two best friends; Danny Mahealani and Allison Argent. They were definitely arguing, since Allison was using her hands to gesture at Danny. She generally only did that when she was upset.

 

Derek saw his eyes widen and narrowed his own questioningly. Stiles mouthed the word, "Friends," and Derek whispered something so quietly, Stiles couldn't hear. But it looked like he had ordered everyone to stand down and remain still or away from the windows.

 

Suddenly, Scott was beside Stiles and maneuvering to get a peek out the window at the two passersby. He whispered, "She's beautiful," in awe. Stiles glanced down at the handkerchief still tied to Scott's wrist.

 

"Stay inside," Stiles warned him. Scott whimpered sadly as he stared out at Allison. Stiles held his arm firmly. Scott almost seemed to start vibrating when they came to a stop right outside the gate. “What are they saying?”

 

“The boy is suggesting they turn back. They’ve been caught in the spell, apparently. They’re lost,” Derek told him quietly. Stiles nodded. Lydia had told him about a spell that surrounded their property that worked to prevent anyone from actually reaching the house. If anyone wanted to follow the road, the spell would change their mind and direct them to a different road and direction. If they were determined to follow the road, they would actually end up lost in the forest until they gave up and went for the other road.

 

“They’re arguing,” Derek whispered. “She wants to check inside the house.”

 

“What do we do if they come through the gate?” Stiles asked worriedly. Derek watched out the window while he thought.

 

“You intercept them,” he said finally. “Tell them to go back home. Tell them your father’s injured and you’ll come home as soon as you can.”

 

Stiles nodded and reached over to squeeze Derek’s hand. “I’ll do my best.”

 

“What do we do if he fails?” Scott asked.

 

Stiles looked at Derek worriedly. Derek hesitated, glanced at Stiles for a moment, then shook his head and said, “I don’t know.”

 

Stiles didn’t have to be a werewolf to know that Derek was lying.

 

He looked back out the window. Allison turned to the gate and Stiles started unlocking the door. As soon as she and Danny were through that gate and stopped, staring at the vanishing façade, he pulled open the door and darted out.

 

“Stiles!” Allison cried excitedly. He met her half way and they swept each other up in one of the tightest hugs he had ever had; second only to the time he fell asleep in the hayloft and his mom and dad had found him, they had hugged him between them so tightly he felt like he might bruise from it. He held her tightly around the waist and just knew Scott was pouting sadly behind the door because he couldn’t even speak to Allison, let alone hug her.

 

After a few seconds, he tried to move back to go hug Danny, but Allison held onto him stubbornly. He laughed and Danny gripped his hand instead. Allison didn’t even let go when she asked, “Have you been here the whole time?”

 

“And have you been here willingly?” Danny asked in a lowered, solemn voice.

 

Stiles smiled. “Yeah, I have. To both questions.”

 

Allison finally let him go, purely so she could hit his shoulder so hard he stumbled back. “You ass!” She hit him again and followed when he stumbled even further back. “We thought you were dead and you were hiding in some _mansion_ in the woods?”

 

She hit him again. This time, he couldn’t help but cry out in pain. She didn’t look sympathetic at all. She instead went to hit him again and he quickly grabbed her hands to stop her. “Stop it! Let me explain!”

 

She yanked her hands out and of his and folded both across her chest. He waited a second to make sure she wasn’t going to hit him again, and then said, “So, here’s what happened. My dad got lost in the woods and ended up getting hurt. He broke his leg and cut himself up pretty badly. The people in this house found him and brought him here to take care of him. But he still got an infection that he just now started to recover from. He’s still weak and his leg is still in pretty bad shape. Plus we’re still watching his ribs because they are really susceptible to breakage right now.”

 

Allison’s arms dropped and they both went from irritation to concern instantly. He quickly said, “He’s fine, really. He’s just not ready to travel home yet. We have a fortnight before his doctor thinks he’ll be ready.”

 

Allison smiled with relief. Danny’s hands unclenched. “Can we see him?” Danny asked.

 

Stiles bit his lip and flinched. “Um, no. See, that’s another thing. The people who rescued him are, like, ridiculously nice and great and stuff but… they’re also super secretive and they don’t want anyone to know they’re out here. They don’t want visitors. I mean, they have serious reservations even keeping me and Dad. They don’t want you to come in. They actually sent me out here to send you away.”

 

Allison looked like she might lash out again. He flinched back and held his hands out defensively. “You saw what happened to the house! And you know what happens to witches! They don’t want anyone finding out about them!”

 

“So we’re just supposed to leave you out here for the next two weeks?” Allison snapped.

 

“Do you realize how hard it was to even get out here ourselves? Allison’s mother was keeping her in the cellar, Stiles. The _cellar_ ,” Danny told him. Stiles’ gut churned with guilt. “Just because she wanted to look for you. I had to yank out the hinges on the door, okay? One by one when I delivered the milk every day for four days. Then, in the middle of the night, I loaded up the horse and left it tied up on the edge of the woods where it could have easily been attacked and killed by wolves, so I could sneak over and pull the doors off and get Allison out. With the _terrifying_ presence of Allison’s psychotic mother looming in the back of my mind, by the way.”

 

“She’s not psychotic!” Allison snapped. Then she flushed and grimaced. “She’s just a little intense.”

 

Stiles took her hand timidly and said, “Sweetheart, I know you love your mom but she is really, really psychotic.”

 

Allison ripped her hand away from him and practically snarled, “My mother isn’t part of this discussion.”

 

“You’re right, Ally. The real problem is not being allowed to see Mr. Stilinski. For no good reason.” Danny glared at Stiles and said, “We already know where they are! What difference does going inside make?” He tried to take a step around Stiles but he quickly blocked him.

 

“I promised, Danny. You can’t go in,” he said firmly.

 

“Stiles, I’m not leaving until you let us see your father,” Allison replied. She went around him before he could stop her, but stopped when the door opened. Stiles turned to see why. It was Lydia, clutching one of the boys’ jackets over her shoulders and probably barefoot under her gown. He doubted she went all the way upstairs for her shoes if she didn’t have her wrap. She had her best poker face on and kept it there when she spoke.

 

“You’ll leave?” she asked. “If we let you see Mr. Stilinski, you’ll return to your village? And you won’t reveal our location?”

 

Allison looked back at Danny and Stiles then looked at Lydia again. “Yes, we’ll leave. And we will never tell anyone.”

 

Lydia nodded and turned back to the open door. “Come inside then. Leave your shoes by the door.”

 

Stiles ran ahead of both Allison and Danny to whisper to her. “What’re you doing?”

 

“Hush, Stiles. Your father will see his guests in the men’s parlor,” she replied as they waited for Allison and Danny to remove their shoes on the porch. Stiles didn’t even know they _had_ a men’s parlor. “ _Alone_ , hopefully, so I won’t have to prepare tea for everyone.”

 

The message clicked and Stiles chuckled; the interior hall way empty. Not even Melissa was standing around. Lydia led them through a set of double doors to the right and gestured them in. His dad was already sitting in one of the chairs directly across from the doors.

 

“I’ll be back with tea,” Lydia said once everyone was inside. She shut the door sharply and Stiles heard the lock engage. Allison heard it too and whirled around.

 

“Did she just lock us in?” she demanded. Stiles stopped her from trying to open the door and smiled reassuringly.

 

“No, no. She probably just locked it to keep the others out. Curiosity killed the cat and all that,” he told her. “They’re horrible about going where they’re not supposed to.”

 

“Who are the others?” Allison asked angrily.

 

Stiles took a deep breath and said, “I don’t have to tell you that.” Allison stopped looking like she wanted to rip his head off and instead gave him the most betrayed look he had ever seen. His stomach swam with guilt. “Don’t give me that look,” he whined. “I can’t tell you and I won’t. Dad, save me.”

 

The only reply was laughter.

 

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

 

Allison seemed to grow more and more irritated as the time they spent waiting for Lydia grew. Danny, however, spoke to his father eagerly and ignored Lydia’s continued absence without concern. Stiles paced the room with his fingers in his mouth. Eventually, the door unlocked and Lydia stepped through. She held the tray in both hands and Stiles obviously caught the mistake at the same moment Allison did. She leapt over the sofa gracefully and grabbed the side of the door. Before anyone could react, she had yanked it open and revealed a very startled Scott.

 

She screamed.


	11. The Plan and the Panic

Stiles clapped a hand over Allison’s mouth and said, “Don’t do that!”

 

Scott backed out of the doorway and Melissa took his place, though instead, with her back to the parlor. Stiles knew she was sending Scott away. Allison was struggling against his grip and trying desperately to shout and question him about what she had just seen. Lydia rushed to put the tray down and then back to shut the door and lock it again. This time, Stiles knew it was purely to keep Danny and Allison inside the parlor.

 

“Calm down, calm down!” Stiles pleaded. Allison elbowed him sharply in the ribs and he had to release her. He rasped for breath as she started shouting, this time screaming words instead of a long, frightened noise. “Shut up and calm down! _God_ , Allison!”

 

She hit him, this time across the face. “YOU’VE BEEN LIVING WITH MONSTERS AND YOU EXPECT ME TO CALM DOWN?”

 

“QUIT HITTING ME!” he yelled back.

 

“BOTH OF YOU STOP IT!” Lydia shouted, louder than both of them. To his surprise, Allison listened. She went still and silent. He looked at Lydia in amazement.

 

“How do you do that?” he asked, awed.

 

“I have a very high pitched scream. Even humans listen just to keep me from shouting,” she replied calmly. She grabbed Allison’s shoulders and forced her to sit on the sofa. Stiles grabbed the tray off the table when she pointed at it and took it to the one between the sofa and chairs. “Stoke the fire, would you?”

 

She looked at Allison calmly while he did as told and said, “Now, here’s the deal. If you’d like to remain calm, we can discuss your stay.”

 

“Stay?” Danny asked fearfully.

 

“Yes,” she replied, turning to serve the tea. She passed Mr. Stilinski his saucer, prepared just the way he liked it, then prepared Stiles’ and left it on the tray. “You’ve seen, so you must stay. I expect Melissa is already composing the letter to take to our dear friend, Dr. Deaton. He’s a rather charming man, if a bit cryptic. And sadly, not an actual doctor. Just a witch doctor. But a smart one. He’ll prepare you a dose of the same potion he’s been working on for Stiles and his father.”

 

Stiles grimaced at the reminder. He still wasn’t ready to give everyone up.

 

“Potion?” Allison repeated.

 

“A potion,” she confirmed with a nod. “To erase your memory of ever seeing this house or meeting us.” She poured cups for Danny and Allison and continued on as she silently offered them sugar and cream. “It’ll take about two weeks for the potion to be ready. The ingredients apparently have to be combined under the full moon. Luckily, the next one is tomorrow. Then it takes a week and a half to brew.”

 

Allison took the saucer with her tea on it and stared into the cup thoughtfully. “You’re going to erase our memories? Is that dangerous?”

 

“Not at all,” Lydia replied. “The potion is very specific. It is no danger to any memories that we haven’t targeted.” She sipped her tea elegantly. “If you agree to stay until the potion is ready, I can take you up to your rooms. If not, I’m afraid we’ll have to bring cots in here for you.”

 

Stiles chewed on his fingers aggressively. “Lydia, they’re not prisoners.”

 

“If they have to be, I _will_ make them prisoners, Stiles.” She fixed him with the stare he had come to know meant nothing but suffering for him. He bit his lip nervously but glared at her nonetheless. She turned back to the tea set and he lunged forward, snatching the door key from her neck where it hung and went over to unlock the door and step out.

 

“Derek!” he yelled as he left the room, only to look around and find Derek leaning against the wall to the right of the parlor doors. Scott was in the corner of the hall, head in his hands and muttering under his breath. “Lydia’s acting like a psycho again.”

 

Derek scoffed. Stiles went over to Scott and rubbed his shoulder supportively. “She _screamed_.”

 

“I’m sure it wasn’t personal, buddy,” Stiles assured him.

 

“Do you not understand the point of the locked door?” Lydia snapped as she came stomping out of the room. Allison followed her and peered around her into the hall curiously. She jumped when she saw Derek. Scott hid his face even more.

 

“How many of them are there?” Allison asked, staring at Derek in shock. Derek narrowed his eyes and Stiles sighed in annoyance.

 

“God, Allison. I know you’re freaked out but could you at least be polite?” he snapped. He wrapped his arms around Scott and rubbed his back soothingly.

 

Derek glared at Allison, straightened up off the wall, and loomed over her threateningly. Allison tilted her head up and met his gaze bravely. He flared his eyes and said, “Learn some manners, girl, or you’ll spend your stay confined to that parlor. Alone.”

 

Danny joined Allison in the doorway and pulled her back behind him protectively. “Back off!” he barked at Derek.

 

Stiles huffed angrily, released Scott, and went over to Danny and Allison. He grabbed both their arms roughly and dragged them back into the parlor. “Dad, Lydia, if I could have some alone time with Danny and Allison.”

  
Lydia helped his father stand and followed him from the room. Stiles finally released Danny and Allison’s arms and went to slam the door. He locked the door once again and turned to face his friends. “You need to stop it. Both of you. I know you’re still in shock and probably a little afraid, but you’re not going to talk to my friends like they’re monsters and you’re certainly not going to treat them like they are!”

 

Allison and Danny were shocked speechless. “These people have treated me with kindness and respect, almost from day one. I’ll admit there were hold outs, but now they are _all_ my friends. As close to me as you two. They won’t hurt you, okay? But they can’t risk you leading anyone back here. They have to erase your memories, just like they have to erase mine. The last time hunters found out where they were, Derek lost almost ten members of his family.”

 

Allison and Danny continued to stare, though their eyes widened noticeably. He plowed on, nearly growling now, “They locked everyone in the barn. Eight people, plus one unborn child. Some of them were children. They burned the barn down around them. There was only one survivor. Derek and his sister only survived because they were in town when the fire happened. They lost everything, because someone found out where and what they were.”

 

Allison crossed her arms over her chest and bowed her head sadly. Stiles rubbed his temples. “Look, just calm down and be nice, okay? I promise they’ll do the same. Plus, if you’re nice, you get to stay in one of the ridiculously nice guest rooms.”

 

Allison couldn’t help but smile. “I should apologize to the guy I screamed at, huh?”

 

“Probably. He’s really sensitive about the curse,” Stiles told her, nodded. The tension was seeping out of his shoulders now and he was grateful to see them looking calm and regretful, rather than angry and defensive. He didn’t like yelling at his friends. “Plus, he kind of thought you were cute.”

 

Allison laughed.

 

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

 

Allison apologized to Scott, and while he accepted, he still refused to meet her eyes. He scurried out of the house with Isaac to put Danny’s horse in the barn and fetch their things from the saddle. Lydia left them alone in the parlor and went to prepare the downstairs guest room for Danny and the remaining upstairs one for Allison. When she finally came back to tell them the rooms were ready, they followed her out and saw Erica and Boyd lingering by the stairs.

 

“Danny, Allison,” Stiles said, pausing in front of the mischievous lovers. “This is Erica Reyes and her fiancé Vernon Boyd. We just call him Boyd. If she tries to get you alone, you shout for Scott. Immediately.”

 

Erica smirked. “I doubt either of them would be as much fun to torment as you, Stiles.” Boyd smiled fondly at his little blonde fiend. Stiles rolled his eyes. Erica reached out and twisted a strand of Allison’s hair around her finger. “Your hair is a beautiful color. But it doesn’t look like you get much sun.”

 

“My mother tends to keep me inside for lessons all day,” Allison told her, pulling her hair away from Erica’s hand. “But even if she didn’t, my skin doesn’t tan.” Erica looked her over thoroughly then smirked again. Stiles took Allison’s hand and pulled her up the stairs.

 

Lydia had paused at the top of the stairs to wait for them. She slid her arm elegantly through Allison’s. “Ignore Erica. She’s simply measuring how much of a threat you are. She’s very possessive of her Boyd, and you're lovely. She’s bound to be a bit hostile.”

 

“Why? She’s pretty and if they’re engaged, then she probably has no reason to worry,” Allison glanced over her shoulder at Stiles.

 

“Try telling her that,” Lydia replied with a huff. “She _still_ acts like I’m after her fiancé, despite the fact that I’m unofficially engaged myself.”

 

“Oh? Does he live here too?” Allison asked wearily. Stiles could tell the sheer amount of people that lived in the house was starting to overwhelm her a bit.  It was being piled on with the fact that some of them were “monsters” and she was going to be stuck with all of them for two weeks.

 

“Yes. You’ll meet him. He’s the only quiet person in the house,” Lydia told her. Stiles bit his lip so he wouldn’t laugh. Lydia opened the door just beside hers and gestured. “Here you are. Home sweet, temporary, home.”

 

Allison smiled and stepped through. Stiles poked his head through the doorway to watch her reaction. The whole house was extravagant and expensively decorated; the guestrooms were no exception and Stiles knew that they had given Allison their best, as she was a lady. He watched her marvel at the beautiful fireplace and the gorgeous bed and smiled. “This is… This is beautiful. _My_ room isn’t even this lovely!”

 

Lydia narrowed her eyes and tilted her head curiously. “Aren’t you a simple village girl, like Stiles? Why would your room even be a candidate for comparison to one of ours?”

 

Stiles flinched. For all her manners and breeding, Lydia could really be quite crass. Allison bristled defensively. He hoped she’d learn soon when the people in the house didn’t mean something personally, despite the way they said things. It would make everything so much easier. “My family is one of the wealthiest in Beacon Hills, actually.”

 

“Really?” Lydia replied, looking intrigued. “Yet they allow you to play with the local milk farmer’s child and the sheriff’s son? My parents never would have stood for it.”

 

“They’re not exactly happy about it, but they learned very early on that I wasn’t going to be dissuaded. I don’t make a habit of giving up when I want something,” Allison told her seriously. The corners of Lydia’s mouth went up with approval. That done, Allison looked at Stiles. “Actually, there was something I wanted to talk to you about involving my family.”

 

“Let’s talk after dinner, okay?” Stiles said quickly. He really couldn’t leave the mess in the back hall any longer, no matter how much he wanted to sit and have a nice, pleasant conversation with Allison. “You two get washed up and changed. I’ve got wood to separate and a mess in the back hallway to clean up. But you know what?  We all usually sit in the lounge after supper, so you can tell me then.” He walked over and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “I’m glad you're here, Allison. I missed you.”

 

Allison smiled and hugged his neck tightly. “I missed you too.”

 

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

 

Dinner was uneventful. Allison and Danny were starving and didn’t spend much time talking. Lydia and Melissa were really the only ones who had much of a conversation. Scott was still refusing to lift his head in front of Allison and Isaac couldn’t tear his eyes away from either of them. He seemed absolutely gob smacked by the fact that they actually had strange humans sitting at their dinner table. Stiles felt too uncomfortable to chatter and the rest of the table was just content to sit in silence and watch everyone else squirm, especially Erica.

 

After dinner, they went to the lounge. Stiles served the after dinner drinks and sat on the floor in front of the fireplace with Allison and Lydia. Danny fussed over getting Stile’s father into a chair and getting his leg up on the footstool. Melissa shooed him eventually with an order to have a glass of something to calm him down. Scott sat in the corner of the lounge behind Derek’s hair and away from everyone else. Erica and Boyd stretched out on the sofa together; Isaac read on the window seat.

 

The room was quiet as they all settled into their spots and started with their activities. Finally, Allison took Stiles’ hand and said, “Can we have that talk now?” Stiles gave her his full attention. She smiled. “So, do you remember the plan we made when my mother first talked to me about an arranged marriage?”

 

Stiles nodded, suddenly feeling the ever unwelcome pit of dread in his stomach.

 

“If you’re wealthy, why would you be forced into a marriage?” Lydia asked without taking her eyes off the shirt she was mending.

 

“Because my mother wants me to be married before she or Father dies,” Allison replied with a sigh. Stiles rolled his eyes. He had Mrs. Argent pegged as a manipulative witch from the start, and the reasons she gave for wanting Allison to have an arranged marriage was one of his best pieces of evidence. “And she says there’s no way I’ll find someone suitable on my own and fall in love before then. She says she wants to be able to go to her grave knowing I am secured and well taken care of, which is sadly a very effective guilt trip.”

 

“Did she find someone she likes?” Stiles asked worriedly. She had been looking since Allison was thirteen and they had always thanked God for her unreachable standards. But from the way Allison looked now, it would seem someone had met those standards finally.

 

“I think she’d marry him herself, were she not already attached,” Allison told him. He couldn’t help but let out a soft chuckle. She smiled softly before she carried on. “So it looks like we’re putting the plan into action. Danny and I are getting married.”

  
There was a whimper from the corner of the room.

 


	12. The Fated

Stiles stared at her for a long moment and she watched him worriedly for a bad reaction. Finally, he admitted, “I’m not sure whether to say congratulations or console you.”

 

Allison and Danny both laughed. Stiles saw Scott curl even more in on himself. He wanted to go comfort him, but knew he couldn’t without giving his friend away. Not that the whimper had been particularly subtle but everyone had been able to ignore it. They couldn’t ignore him going over and snuggling him. “You can congratulate me,” Allison said, smiling. “After all, at least I’ll be marrying someone I love.”

 

“You love him? I hadn’t caught that,” Lydia mumbled to the white fabric across her lap. She wasn’t being very kind to the shirt. Probably upset on Scott’s behalf.

 

“Well, not romantically. But I love him as my best friend and surrogate brother,” Allison told her. Stiles rubbed her hands gently. “And I know we’ll be able to make a marriage work for us.”

 

“I still think it’s not fair for you,” Danny told her, leaning on the mantel and sipping his bourbon. Stiles nodded agreeably.

 

“What about you? Isn’t it unfair for you too?” Isaac asked, frowning.

 

“Not really. Without this plan, my fate would be to die alone. However, with the plan, I get to marry a rich, beautiful, smart woman and have a family. It won’t be bliss for either of us, but I do want a family,” Danny replied.

 

“Why would your fate be to die alone?” Isaac asked.

 

“You’re such an idiot, Isaac. Obviously because he likes men instead of women,” Lydia practically growled as she continued to stitch the shirt like it had personally wronged her. Isaac mouthed a silent, “Oh,” then nodded and pretended to go back to his book.

 

“Thank you for telling everyone that, Lydia. I did so want to be shunned for the next two weeks,” Danny said irritably.

 

“You won’t be shunned for that here, sweetheart,” Melissa said kindly. “Werewolves, while they do have preferences, do not typically keep their attractions tied to one gender. The wolf wants what it wants and whether that is a man or a woman, they go along with it.”

 

Danny stared in awe. “You…Don’t care?”

 

“Not at all,” Derek answered for the room. “Who you love is your business.” Stiles smiled as he watched that sink in for his friend.

 

“I wish the rest of the world thought that way,” Danny said before pouring himself another glass of bourbon.

 

“Hey, bring that bottle over here,” Isaac requested with a grin. Danny brought the bottle and took a seat beside Isaac. They shared it silently. Stiles rolled his eyes. The last thing he needed was Isaac to befriend Danny. They would spend all their time watching everyone and mocking them. It would not end well.

 

“So, are you guys going to elope or just tell your parents you want to marry him?” Stiles asked, ignoring the potential danger on the window seat for the time being.

 

“Eloping would only end in disaster. But Dad will help with convincing mom to let us get married,” Allison replied. “He’s not actually behind me marrying some stranger. Though, he might not be all right with me marrying the town outcast either.”

 

“I will end our engagement,” Danny threatened unenthusiastically. Allison smiled over her shoulder at him. He rolled his eyes and drank from his glass.

 

Stiles smiled as he watched Allison roll her eyes back. “Are you really okay with all this?”

 

Allison looked at him and smiled softly. “No one gets the epic love story, Stiles. I’m counting my lucky stars I get to marry one of my best friends.”

 

Stiles frowned slightly. He knew that marrying Allison was Danny’s best option but to think of Allison not getting to fall in love and find her one true love… The romantic in him cried for her. Especially since he had hoped that – should they ever meet – she and Scott would find love in each other. Scott’s wolf howled for her, he knew that. But if she was determined to marry Danny and escape the arranged marriage, she wouldn’t take the time to see past the curse to who he was.

 

Seeing his sorrowful look, Allison squeezed his hands and smiled sadly. “Stiles, don’t think like that. It’s fine, really.” She let go of his hands and shifted on what was probably her very numb rear. She bent her legs under herself and leaned her weight on her hand. Lydia suddenly looked at her thoughtfully. “There’s no such thing as fate.”

 

Scott lifted his head. “There’s no such thing as werewolves.”

 

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

 

“So if you all are werewolves, why don’t you have other forms?” Stiles passed the plate of sausage links and flapjacks to Isaac as Danny questioned the rest of the table - somewhat unknowingly - about the curse. “Aren’t werewolves supposed to go between wolf and human?”

 

“We are,” Derek answered. “But we had a series of unfortunate events that led to a curse, which has effectively trapped us in the in-between form.” He sighed and speared a sausage link aggressively. “Melissa tells the story better than I do.”

 

“The first instinct I got as a mother was how to tell stories,” Melissa joked. Almost everyone smiled.  “I’m not going to see Deaton until late.  I’ll tell you after breakfast.”

 

“Thank you, Melissa,” Danny said with a smile.

 

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

 

Stiles and Derek went from the breakfast table straight to the library to play chess. Lydia was setting up her easel in front of the chaise and humming to herself. Apparently, she had convinced Allison to let her draw her after deciding the pose she had taken up in the lounge deserved to be on paper for all to see. She had used flattery and near pleading, according to Allison.

 

“What else would I get Scott for Christmas?” Lydia answered when Stiles asked why she had been so persistent.

 

Stiles was stuck on what move to take when the door suddenly slammed open. Erica, Boyd, and Isaac came running in. Scott jumped up from his perch on the ladder connected to the bookcases and looked around in frantic confusion. Erica dragged Stiles up from his seat and pushed him into a corner. She blocked him in with her body while Isaac pushed Scott to do the same with Lydia. Isaac and Boyd moved to flank Derek defensively.

 

Allison came storming in, Danny and Melissa hot on her heels. Melissa kept trying to grab her but Allison was too fast. She ran right at Derek and grabbed hold of his shirt. He held up his hands to keep Boyd and Isaac from interfering. “Did you kill my aunt Kate?”

 

Stiles’ eyes went wide. Melissa backed away to keep Scott still and in front of Lydia. Derek squinted at Allison thoughtfully. “You’re Kate Argent’s niece? Chris Argent’s daughter?”

 

Suddenly, Allison had a knife. Where she pulled it from, Stiles would never know. But she did have it and she had it pointed at Derek’s neck. Derek smirked. “A letter opener, hmm? Got that off the desk on your way in?”

 

Allison dug in until she drew blood. “Did you kill Kate Argent?”

 

“No, I didn’t. But I was there when she died. And I was very, very happy about it,” Derek replied nonchalantly. “That bitch locked my family in the barn and burned it down around them.” His hands suddenly snapped up and grabbed her wrists. He easily pushed her back to arm length and loomed over her. “Now think about what you want to do with that knife, Allison. And think seriously. Most of the people in this room are three times stronger than you. _I’m_ at least four times your strength. And I heal.” The nick on his neck healed quickly and easily. “You don’t. Do you think you can kill me and get away unscathed?”

 

Allison looked as though she was trembling with anger. Derek slowly lost his smirk. “Now, no matter how close to your aunt you were, I want you to think about what she did. I want you to remember the rest of the story you were told.”

 

Allison was starting to look like she might cry but she still looked furious and the knife was still clutched in her fingers. “My uncle killed her, Allison, but she killed almost ten people; one unborn child and two under ten.”

 

The knife clattered to the ground. Allison started to cry. Stiles ducked under Erica’s arm and ran over to her. Derek gently guided her into his arms and Stiles thanked him silently with his eyes. From what he understood, Derek would have been well within his rights according to the laws and guidelines between packs and hunters to kill Allison for attacking him in his own territory, and more so since it was his own house. Derek ran a hand down Stiles’ arm quickly before leaving the room. Danny joined Stiles and Allison’s embrace and everyone else followed after Derek.

 

While Allison sobbed into Stiles’ shoulder, Danny leaned forward and whispered, “What the hell was that?” into Stiles’ ear. “Did he just _stroke_ your arm?”

 

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

 

Melissa finished the story while Allison sat for Lydia’s portrait. Lydia dressed her, styled her hair, and applied her makeup. She was stunning. Scott had even risked making eye contact to watch Lydia draw her. Derek and Stiles sat to finish their game.

 

Danny was sitting in a chair in the corner, glaring at Stiles over the top of his book. He was starting to irritate Stiles. Danny himself was probably pretty irritated that Stiles hadn’t answered his question. But Stiles didn’t care. He couldn’t answer Danny when he didn’t know the answer himself.

 

He and Derek hadn’t even discussed what was between them. They couldn’t, really. Derek needed to find a mate. He only had three more years. And Stiles…Stiles was only sixteen. He couldn’t decide who he was going to love for the rest of his life yet and certainly not in two weeks. He wasn’t sure when, but they apparently had reached an unspoken agreement to not even bother addressing it because there was no point. If he could make the decision, he would. But he and Derek both knew he couldn’t.

 

“Scott,” Lydia said without even looking over her shoulder. “Quit staring and make yourself useful. Poor Allison is dying of thirst over here.”

 

Allison laughed and everyone joined her when Scott clumsily scrambled to his feet and out of the room. “Poor Scott,” she cooed sweetly, hiding her face in the arm of the chaise. “Don’t embarrass the poor guy, Lydia.”

 

“You can’t just let him drool over your, Allison,” Lydia scolded gently. “You’re not an object.”

 

“He’s an isolated teenager who only interacts with women he has no potential with,” Allison objected. “He’s bound to be a bit… over-enamored with someone new.”

 

“Yes, that must be it,” Lydia remarked drily.

 

Scott returned with a tray of tea for everyone and served Allison first. She tilted her head up and smiled at him. “Thank you, Scott.”

 

Scott turned bright red and practically scurried off. Allison sighed and sipped her tea disappointedly. Lydia drank her own tea and chatted with Allison until they were done. Then she went over and repainted Allison’s lips. They returned to the portrait and Scott – rather than watching – went out of the room with the empty cups and tray.

 

“Why doesn’t he want to talk to me?” Allison asked a few moments after the door closed behind Scott. “I know he finds me pretty but could I have upset him that much when I screamed?”

 

“Yup,” Stiles teased. “You broke his poor little heart.” Allison grabbed one of the pillows Lydia had rejected from being in the portrait off the ground and threw it. The chess pieces clattered to the floor after the pillow bounced off his head. Stiles jumped to his feet and cheered. “Yes! Thank you, Allison!”

 

“You just admitted you were losing,” Derek reminded him smugly.

 

Stiles grabbed the pillow and hit Derek atop the head with it. “Don’t care!” He danced happily. “So long as I didn’t actually loose.”

 

Everyone but Derek and Danny laughed. Danny was still mad at him, obviously, but Derek at least smiled. “Is this how you always dance?” Derek asked teasingly. Stiles nodded and kept moving to his nonexistent beat. Derek grinned in a way that showed every last sharp tooth and shook his head fondly.

 

Lydia suddenly put her pencil down and stood up. “I don’t know _what_ you think that is, but it is not dancing. Derek, if you’ll move all the furniture from the ladies’ lounge.” She held her hand to Allison and helped her to her feet. Then she practically glided over to the door. “I’m in the mood for some _real_ dancing.”

 

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

 

Stiles fussed with his suit uncomfortably while cursing the control Lydia had over the people in the house. Honestly, within hours of deciding she wanted to have a ball, the lounge had been turned into a dance hall, wine was set out for serving on a table, and his father was at the piano, ready to perform for the first time in years. The men were standing around the lounge nervously while they waited for the women to come downstairs. Lydia had been primping them for hours.

 

Derek scolded Isaac for fussing with his buttons, warning him that he might pop them off, and Isaac growled and started tapping his foot instead. Derek looked like he might kill the beta so Stiles gently pushed Isaac towards Danny and said, “You know, Isaac, Danny has never danced with a man. Only girls. Do you think you’d be comfortable giving him his first dance with his preferred gender?”

 

Isaac nodded and started talking to Danny contentedly. Stiles rolled his eyes and went back to Derek’s side. “Honestly,” he muttered. “They’re a dangerous combination.”

 

“We’ll just have to keep a close eye on them.”

 

There was a knock on the parlor door as Stiles was nodding his head agreeably. The girls were ready and their mock-ball had begun.


	13. The Dance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _**This dedication has been edited because I got self conscious.** _
> 
> For Umbilical Noose, because your comments always make me smile. XOXO

Scott escorted his mother into the parlor, as Lydia had demanded, and over to the piano. Melissa, Lydia, and Derek would be trading “shifts” on the piano so everyone would get to dance. Scott pulled the bench out for her and helped her sit, then moved away to watch the others enter. Melissa began to play and Lydia, escorted by Derek, walked gracefully into the room. They began to dance as soon as they reached the center of the room.

 

Stiles smiled while he watched. Derek really was a fine dancer and Lydia too. When Erica and Boyd came to join them, he was pleasantly surprised by the discovery that they actually managed very well. Erica danced like a noble lady and Boyd complimented her perfectly; they looked great.

 

Then, of course, there was Allison and Danny. Allison had been trained to dance since she could pay attention to a lesson long enough and Danny had earned extra money as her training partner. They had been dancing together for years, literally. They were beautiful, elegant.

 

Stiles watched and swayed by himself for a long moment, before growing bored and crossing the room to stand in front of Scott. He bowed low and held out his hand. “May I have this dance, Mr. McCall?”

 

Scott chuckled and bowed back. “It would be my pleasure, Mr. Stilinski.”

 

They waltzed/skipped out to join the dancing couples. Soon, they had several people in the room doubled over with laughter from watching them dance goofily. Scott was grinning and blushing with happiness at having made Allison laugh.

 

Lydia, however, was not pleased, though Stiles could tell she was at least a little amused. She released Derek and stopped Scott and Stiles’ movements. “Stop that,” she admonished. “This is Scott’s first ball, no matter if it is just the pack. And guests, of course,” she added, gesturing at Allison and Danny. “Let’s have at least _a little_ real dancing before you two act like morons, please.”

 

Stiles and Scott laughed but nodded. She held her hand to Scott and said, “Wonderful. Derek, dance with Stiles.”

 

Derek rolled his eyes as she swept Scott away but, of course, did as he was told. Stiles smiled at him while they danced. Danny was watching them suspiciously again. “Does your friend not like me?” Derek asked quietly.

 

“No. I just have to have a talk with him later,” Stiles replied lightheartedly. “He doesn’t understand what’s going on between us.”

 

Derek met his eyes and frowned. “Sometimes I don’t understand what’s going on between us.”

 

“Seriously?” Erica snapped as she and Boyd danced up alongside them. “You’re going to do this _now_?”

 

“Shut up, Erica,” Stiles snipped back with an admittedly exaggerated eye roll. He looked over at Lydia and called, “Hey, when do we get to do the circle dance?”

 

“You mean the English Country Dance?” Lydia replied snobbishly, though she smiled anyway.

 

“Yeah, that one! Let’s do that,” Stiles said excitedly.

 

Lydia rolled her eyes at him but released Scott. “Fine,” she conceded. “Boyd, didn’t you say you didn’t know this one?” Boyd nodded. “Great. Go sit on the piano. Melissa, come dance with us.”

 

Melissa stood up and came over to join the rest of the group while Boyd took her spot on the piano bench. “I’m going to warn everyone now,” Stiles said, “I haven’t done this since I was a kid.”

 

“Maybe we should space out a little more,” Erica teased as she moved to dance with him.

 

“Maybe we should,” Stiles said with a snort of laughter. Most everyone laughed. Lydia, as usual, was only amused enough to smile and roll her eyes. She was taking this whole dance far too seriously, in Stiles’ opinion.

 

Boyd played a happy, bouncy melody with Mr. Stilinski accompanying him on a borrowed violin and they danced joyfully. Lydia loosened up and laughed as they weaved and circled around in the dance. Stiles made faces at each person he passed. Scott turned red any time his hand touched Allison’s.

 

Eventually, the song ended and Melissa left the dance floor to play a waltz. They all paused for a moment – since they had lost their partners during to jubilant group dance – before reorienting themselves and finding someone. Boyd returned to dance with Erica, Isaac hurried to ask Danny to dance, and Lydia stole Stiles away from Derek with the promise to return him after the song. Derek moved to stand beside the piano and wait. And that, of course, left Scott and Allison.

 

Allison smiled sweetly as the other pairings danced around them and Scott turned bright red yet again. Nervously, he held out his hand. She didn’t even hesitate to place hers in it. Stiles and Lydia watched them dance out of the corner of their eye. They moved well together, very elegant and natural, if a little shy.

 

Stiles just wished Scott would stop blushing. He was starting to look like a hairy, fanged tomato.

 

“I wish I could dance with Jackson.” Stiles was startled out of his thoughts and looked down at Lydia sympathetically. She smiled sadly. “He was a beautiful dancer. Born of breeding and privilege, he learned from age four. We used to go to community dances and he would spend every moment he could leading me around the dance floor. And I do mean _around_ ,” she specified with a soft laugh. “We were too little to actually dance on it. We would have been trampled.”

 

“When the curse is lifted,” Stiles started only to be cut off by Lydia, who suddenly looked irritated.

 

“ _When_ is an awfully optimistic term,” she snapped, “For someone who’s going to be forgetting us in two weeks.”

 

Stiles flinched and frowned. “Don’t get mad at me. It’s not my decision, Lyds. I don’t want to forget any of you. If I could, I wouldn’t forget a second of my time here. I love everyone in this house and I don’t want to lose any of you. But that’s what has to happen.”

 

“And what if you’re it?” Lydia demanded, breaking away from him. The whole dance stopped. Derek moved over and took hold of Lydia’s shoulder.

 

“That’s enough,” he said firmly. “I told you to let me handle it.”

 

Stiles frowned at him. “Handle what? I thought you knew immediately. Like Scott, remember? And you’d have told me, right?” Derek didn’t answer. Stiles felt his own anger bubble up and clenched his jaw around his repeated words. “You’d have told me, right?”

 

“We’re not going to discuss this here,” Derek said sternly. “This is a party. Let’s put this aside and have fun.” Lydia rolled her eyes and stomped away from both of them. Derek held his hand  out to Stiles, who slapped his into it harshly.

 

They spent the rest of the party dancing solely together. Danny and Isaac, and Allison and Scott, followed their example and stayed together. Erica alternated between dancing with Boyd and dancing with Lydia. She even allowed Lydia one dance with Boyd.

 

All in all, it was a great party. But it had to end. Melissa still had to go deliver the letter to Deaton, after all, and there were chores to be done around the house. They all went their separate ways, though Stiles had a feeling Lydia would be arranging another ball before summer and that it would not, in fact, only include their pack.

 

He caught her leafing through Derek’s wolf pack contact book while she made dinner.

 

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

 

“I think Lydia wants us to talk,” Stiles said as he walked into Derek’s bedroom the day after the faux ball. He dropped into the chair beside Derek’s and sighed heavily. “She’s been really irritable all day.”

 

“I know. But you and I both know there’s nothing to discuss. Not yet, anyway. I do have a plan, and I told Lydia that, but I can’t tell you what is yet. I don’t want anyone else finding out about it. Again, I told her that but she’s determined to get her way, as usual,” Derek replied without looking up from his book.

 

“Why does Lydia know you have a plan? _I_ didn’t know you had a plan,” Stiles grumbled. “Is it a plan that lets me remember?” Derek didn’t reply. Stiles glared at him. “You’re seriously not going to tell me?”

 

“Nope,” Derek replied firmly. Stiles pouted briefly before standing up and going over to Derek’s bed. Derek watched him curiously. “What’re you doing?”

 

“Taking a nap,” Stiles said casually. He toed out of his house shoes and climbed up onto the bed. Derek watched him with a perplexed frown. Stiles sighed contentedly as he burrowed down into the plush blankets and even more luxurious pillows. “I don’t want to go deal with Lydia right now. Wanna nap with me?”

 

Derek looked at his book, then back at the cozy picture Stiles made. He snapped the book shut and stood up. Stiles grinned happily and scooted from the middle of the bed to the side farthest from the outside door. He had noticed when he was sleeping with Derek he would never let Stiles sleep there. He knew it had something to do with Derek’s need to protect, and was fine with it.

 

Derek stripped off his shirt and removed his belt before climbing in. Stiles yawned and moved closer so Derek’s body heat would wrap around him comfortably. Derek scoffed. “You have a whole pillow, you know. You don’t need half of mine.”

 

Stiles only reply was his best shit-eating grin.

 

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

 

Stiles was attempting to creep out of his room when he nearly smacked into Allison in the hall; she jerked out of the way just in time. The two friends stared at each other silently for a long time before she asked, “Where are you going?”

 

“I could ask you the same thing,” he returned suspiciously. Allison regarded him the same way.

 

“Lydia’s room,” she said suddenly. “I had a nightmare.”

 

Stiles squinted at her in the dark. “So you’re going to Lydia’s room. In the middle of the night, without your slippers, and without any light… because you had a nightmare.” She nodded and he saw her swallow. _Lying._ “Ally, are you going to Scott’s?”

 

Even in the dark, he knew she was blushing. She shook her head firmly. He smiled. “I’ve known you for years, Allison. I know when you’re lying.”

 

She shifted and cleared her throat nervously. “I couldn’t sleep, okay?”

 

He full-on grinned. “Me neither.” She smiled back.

 

He watched her go to Scott’s room then went in the opposite direction to Derek’s. Derek stirred just a little when he slid into bed with him. “Allison went to sleep in with Scott,” he whispered. He saw Derek smile, just a little, before he moved too close to see his face. Derek wrapped his arms around him and he pressed his face into Derek’s chest. “I don’t blame her. Sleeping beside someone is so much better than sleeping alone.”

 

“Much better,” Derek agreed sleepily.

 

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

 

Scott was chipper. Stiles couldn’t describe him any other way. There just wasn’t any other word for it. He was chipper. He was also following Allison around like an eager little duckling. It was adorable. Stiles smiled every time he saw it. Derek looked so pleased to have his beta so happy, though there was a bittersweet air to his smile. The first week was coming to an end.

 

Melissa, Lydia, and Boyd returned from town with a letter from Deaton and they all sat around to listen to her read it and after, read from the book Stiles and Scott intended to push at her.

 

Melissa finished reading the letter (it wasn’t anything interesting, just an update on the progress of the potion and an expression of his irritation for having to make more on such short notice) and put it away carefully. “Allison, we brought you back something.”

 

She took a carefully folded piece of paper from her pocket and passed it over. Allison unfolded it and heaved a sigh. “A missing person poster. Wonderful.”

 

“What’s it say?” Danny asked.

 

“ _Missing: Allison Argent._ It has a drawing of me and the day I went missing. It also says; _May have eloped with the young man also pictured._ There’s a reward for information that leads to my safe return.” She harshly bundled the paper up then threw it into the fire. “I cannot believe her.”

 

“What’s wrong with it?” Boyd asked from his spot, where he was slicing an apple with his claws for Erica, to feed her adoringly. “Isn’t elopement supposed to be romantic or whatever?”

 

“The ideal is romantic,” Allison replied agitatedly. “The reality leads only to being shamed and treated…treated like a whore, honestly.” She stood up and began to pace the space behind the couch furiously. “No doubt this is my mother’s idea. She’s hoping I’ll see them and go running home to avoid future shame to me and my potential children.” She looked like she wanted to hit something. “Tough break, Mother, because you messed everything up for yourself too. Let’s see if your precious rich boy still wants to marry your little runaway.”

 

“We have a rich boy who would gladly marry you if he doesn’t,” Lydia said sweetly.

 

Allison paused her pacing to smile and asked, “Oh, yeah? Who?” Lydia pointed to Scott delicately. Scott turned bright red and sank down into his seat in embarrassment. “Scott?” Lydia nodded seriously. “Scott is the son of a single mother. No offense,” she added quickly to Melissa. Melissa smiled and shrugged. Stiles started to get the feeling he and Allison were missing something. “I don’t think my mother would ever allow it.”

 

“Before his death,” Melissa started with a knowingly, motherly smile, “I married Derek’s uncle Peter.”

 

“Well, that was conveniently left out of the story,” Stiles said to break the solid two minute silence that followed that declaration.


	14. The Farewell

“I didn’t need to tell you, so I didn’t,” Melissa said kindly. “It wasn’t ‘left out’. It just wasn’t important.”

 

“So no one thought it’d be important for us to know that you’re not just pack, you’re actually family?”  Stiles clarified, pointing between Melissa and Derek. I mean, you’re his aunt! And no one cared to tell us?” Derek just shrugged. Stiles shook his head in amazement. “Honestly, you people are so weird.”

 

Derek smirked. “We’ll be sure to give you a more detailed account of our past and present lives in the future. Would you like to hear about when I learned to walk?”

 

“Ha ha,” Stiles replied dryly. “Mock all you want, I still think Melissa being your aunt qualifies as pertinent information.”

 

Melissa smiled and said, “I married Peter before he died. While he was still comatose, actually. It was Laura and Derek’s idea.” She adjusted her lapful of needlepoint and smoothed out her skirt. “There wasn’t any love between us, but Derek and Laura began to feel like my family almost immediately. Derek took to Scott as the ideal surrogate brother, Laura became like the daughter I’d always wanted. Laura decided that she wanted to insure that when Peter passed, we’d be able to remain without having to leave so I could find work. She decided that marrying Peter would insure we were well taken care of perfectly. We arranged a wedding with a sympathetic judge and that was that. It wasn’t some big thing and it still isn’t. Though, yes, I am Derek’s aunt and I’m happy to be.”

 

Derek smiled.

 

“So I take it Peter had a substantial fortune to leave behind?” Allison asked while Stiles sulked about being out of the loop.

 

“Quite substantial,” Derek replied seriously. “Scott could very well enjoy a life of lazy luxury until the day he dies. His children as well.”

 

“I don’t like to flaunt it or anything,” Scott finally chimed in. He looked at Allison shyly through his lashes as he said, “I avoid spending more than Mom and I need because I want to make sure my future wife and kids never want for anything.”

 

Allison looked successfully charmed by this statement. “That’s so sweet.”

 

Scott flushed and ducked his head bashfully. Melissa smiled. “Very sweet. I did a good job, didn’t I?” She leaned over and pinched his cheek playfully.

 

“Mom!” Scott said with a laugh, even though he had nicked himself on his fangs when she pinched him. Allison smiled.

 

Stiles met Melissa’s gaze and they both smiled knowingly.

 

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

 

“So if the curse was lifted, do you think Scott would want to marry me?” Allison asked suddenly. She was repairing the string on her bow from the break Lydia had caused when Allison attempted to teach her to use it, while he made lunch. She was up on the counter, like everyone else usually was. She and Danny were definitely getting comfortable with being in the house.

 

“I think he’d marry you now, Ally,” Stiles replied with a laugh. “He just doesn’t want to trap you out here.”

 

Allison frowned and studied her bow. “Maybe being trapped out here wouldn’t be so bad.”

 

“That’s a great thought,” he replied, shaking his head. “Why don’t you take that thought to Lydia?”

 

Allison plucked at her bow string and frowned. “Why is Lydia still out here?”

 

“Him,” Stiles answered simply, pointing up at the ceiling.

 

Allison looked up and screamed.

 

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

 

“How did you miss the giant lizard?” Isaac asked, laughing behind his hand. Only Scott and Lydia had stopped laughing, actually.

 

“Why didn’t anyone tell me about the giant lizard?” Allison snapped back angrily.

 

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

 

“Melissa, you’re back early,” Stiles exclaimed when he came downstairs just in time to see her entering the house. She smiled tensely as she pulled off her gloves. He paused on the last step. “What’s wrong?”

 

She raised her eyes and said, “The potion will be ready Friday.”

 

His mouth opened just a little against his will. “But… But that’s almost a week ahead of schedule.”

 

Derek came into the hall and went over to help her out of her coat. “That’s fine.”

 

“But Scott –” she started to object.

 

“Will be fine,” Derek said firmly. “If it’s meant to be, it will be, Melissa. Trust in that, please.”

 

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

 

“I think you’re getting more cryptic every day,” Stiles said as he entered Derek’s bedroom.

 

Derek smiled and tilted his head back to look at Stiles. He wasn’t reading, wasn’t exercising, wasn’t doing anything but lying on the sofa. Stiles walked over and Derek automatically made room for him.

 

“I have a plan, remember? And if it works – which I believe it will – everyone will be happy with the end result.”

 

Stiles shook his head while he situated himself on the couch with Derek. “And you’re still not going to tell me this plan?”

 

“Not yet.” Derek wrapped his arms around Stiles and smiled when he pouted angrily. “But soon, okay? Very soon.”

 

Melissa went to fetch the potion Friday evening. No one left the parlor for most of the day and Stiles didn’t leave Derek’s lap; Derek kept his head tucked in Stiles’ neck. Allison leaned on Scott’s side on the floor and Isaac and Danny sat beside each other, with Isaac’s left leg over Danny’s right. No one spread out from in front of the fireplace, too eager to keep each other close.

 

“This isn’t fair,” Erica snapped suddenly. “Why can’t we just trust them to keep quiet?”

 

“It’s not a matter of trusting them, Erica. It’s about trusting the hunters not to force the truth out of them. Even the tiniest suspicions that a lie has been told, and they will do whatever it takes to find the truth. The potion makes sure there’s no lie to detect,” Derek reminded her. She sulked but didn’t argue.

 

“It’s still not fair.” Stiles reached down and started to pet Isaac’s hair.

 

“I know, honey.” He would have loved to stay, to live with everyone in the woods and never return to Beacon Hills. He thought that Allison and Danny would have too. However, his father needed him and Allison couldn’t leave her parents, no matter how she and her mother disagreed and clashed. Danny’s parents were shit, but Stiles and his dad acted as family in their place. He wouldn’t leave Beacon Hills for the same reasons Stiles wouldn’t. No matter what they wanted, they had too much to give up, to pursue it, while the pack couldn’t leave the woods.

 

Allison leaned on Scott’s shoulder. “Come find me when the curse is lifted?”

 

“If you’re not married already,” Scott promised. “And if the curse is ever lifted.”

 

Allison heaved a sigh and curled into Scott even more.

 

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

 

Derek welcomed Stiles into his bed that night. He stayed awake to listen to everyone’s heartbeat. When he was certain everyone was asleep, he shook Stiles awake and whispered, “I’m going to tell you my plan now.”

 

Stiles forced himself to wake up enough to listen.

 

“Tomorrow, when it’s time to take the potion, I’m going to dilute yours. It’ll still work, but only for a few days.” Stiles’ face broke into a wide grin and he woke up even more. Derek smiled back. “Just long enough to fool Chris Argent into believing you don’t remember, like the others. Their attachment isn’t as deep as yours. I can’t take the chance and trust them.”

 

Stiles didn’t agree but he nodded because he did understand. It was Derek’s job to protect the pack, after all.

 

Derek rubbed his arms with the back of his fingers. The skin he stroked broke into goose bumps. “I also have a present for you hidden in your saddlebag. I know getting out to see us will be difficult, especially when you first get back. Argent will most likely watch you constantly, even if he believes you don’t remember. So I looked through our records and found a way for you to see us whenever you want.”

               

He turned over a little and reached into the drawer of his bedside table. He removed a small clothe pouch and turned back to Stiles. He opened it so Stiles could see the contents, which was a mixture of herbs, earth, and – rather disgustingly – hair. Derek closed it up again and said, “This one is for Scott, so he can see Allison when he wants, so long as he doesn’t misuse it.”

 

He dropped it back in the drawer and returned to holding Stiles tenderly. “You take a little pinch and drop it in any amount of water you have and it will show you anyone you want, so long as the mixture has a bit of their hair in it. No incantation is needed. All you do is speak the name.”

 

Stiles smiled and nodded to show he understood. He couldn’t wait to try it out.

 

Derek turned briefly bashful and said, “I don’t know that you’ll use it but if you miss us and can’t come out here…” He trailed off nervously.

 

Stiles snuggled into him and said, “I’ll run out in a month, just looking at you.”

 

Derek chuckled.

 

“I love this plan,” Stiles told him as he started to grow drowsy again. He felt like an immense weight had been lifted off his shoulders. The relief made him tired and content.

 

Derek pressed his nose into Stiles’ hair and sighed happily. “You’ll come back, right?”

 

“Every chance I get,” he promised right before falling fast asleep.

 

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

 

Stiles covertly checked his saddlebag for the pouch Derek had stashed inside while he and Scott prepared the horses. It was there, hidden at the very bottom of the deepest bag. He smiled to himself quickly, and then went back to playing sad, purely for Allison and Danny’s benefit. He knew Derek didn’t trust them, but the others didn’t and they wouldn’t take kindly to finding out. Of course, they didn’t realize that he wasn’t sure Derek really, truly trusted him either. Not all the time anyway. It was just the way Derek was, there was no point having a fit about it.

 

“I’m going to miss you so much,” Scott said softly.

 

Stiles turned to look and him and nearly told him right then and there. Instead, he went over to hug him. They stood there for a long time, just hugging each other, before Lydia came to see what was taking so long with the horses.

 

They were going to have one more meal together before their departure and apparently it was getting cold.

 

They separated and followed Lydia in.

 

Derek and Stiles held hands together under the table, though neither of them was sure if it was so that everyone believed they were truly separating, or because Derek wasn’t sure they weren’t separating. Stiles wanted to tell him they weren’t, promise it over and over, but he couldn’t without giving them away.

 

Instead, he rested his head on Derek’s shoulder and gripped his hand tightly. No one was really eating much anyway.

 

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

 

Derek pulled him aside right before they were set to take the potion. Stiles waited for him to speak, but Derek apparently couldn’t find the words. So instead, he acted. He leaned down and pressed his lips softly to Stiles’. Stiles swore he was going to melt into a puddle of squishy intestines and gooey blood mixed with bits of skin. Derek kissed so beautifully, he forgot to be disgusted by his own imagery.

 

“I hope to see you again,” Derek whispered when their lips parted. Stiles slowly blinked his eyes open and nodded dumbly. Derek smiled. “If you don’t bash your head in when you faint.”

 

“I don’t faint,” Stiles objected weakly. Derek’s smile grew even wider. Stiles leaned forward and stole another kiss. “Asshole.”

 

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

 

The potion was vile. He and the others all retched drily after drinking it. When their heaving subsided, the aftertaste brought it back. They hunched over and retched until suddenly, everything faded away, including the taste. The last thing Stiles would recall seeing when his potion wore off, was Derek reaching out to catch him before he fell.


	15. The Return

When they emerged from the forest, someone immediately raised the alarm and they were soon greeted by nearly everyone in the village. Stiles had never seen so many people who actually looked happy to see him before.

 

Stiles felt like he had a veil over his eyes and his mind. Everything was fuzzy. He vaguely recalled leaving the forest but nothing else. He didn't remember going inside it at all. He remembered the deputy telling him they wouldn't keep searching for his father but couldn't remember anything after that. He could see that Allison, Danny, and his father were with him and that they all appeared to be as dazed as he felt.

 

The acting sheriff questioned them extensively about where they'd been for what he said was nearly a month and a half for Stiles, two months for his dad, and almost two weeks for Allison and Danny. Allison's father showed up and stayed for the questions, occasionally interjecting with the most oddly specific questions Stiles had ever heard before.

 

But no one could remember anything. They couldn't even remember going into the woods. Mr. Argent seemed more agitated by this than the acting sheriff.

 

They were checked out by the town doctor during the questioning and he found that his father had a mostly healed femur and freshly healed wound on the same leg. He said it looked professionally treated and the stint was definitely applied by someone well trained in medical care. He said it had to have been a doctor.

 

The rest of them were in perfect health, though Stiles had a fresh scar that he didn’t know how he got and Mr. Argent looked furious about.

 

They went home and Stiles made dinner and put their things away. Danny came and ate with them in return for chopping some wood out back. He went home to sleep but asked to come back for breakfast; his parents weren't fond of him being around so he typically had meals with them. The suspicions that his sexuality differed from the norm created a black cloud on their reputation they just didn't want to deal with. That apparently meant treating their child like a stranger.

 

Stiles told Danny yes, on the condition he cleaned the chicken for the soup he wanted to make for dinner. It would take most of the day to cook so it would have to be cleaned in the morning and Stiles didn't like doing it himself.

 

Then they went to bed. Stiles slept on the floor beside his father’s bed and listened to his father snore for hours before he fell into a restless sleep.

 

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

 

Stiles watched Danny prep the chicken while talking to his father and wondered idly if, were he to fall in love with Derek, his father would be as accepting of it as he appeared to be of Danny.

 

He had woken up with all the memories that had been hidden away by the potion, despite the fact that Derek said the affects would last for a few days. The feeling of confusion faded to one of loneliness.

 

The house that had once been his home was so quiet and foreign now. He missed the loud and rambunctious pack. He wanted to be with them; with _his_ pack. But he couldn't leave his dad yet and Chris Argent was probably watching. He had to wait.

 

He wondered seriously for the first time ever whether he could be the one to break the curse. The way Derek looked at him when they said goodbye... It wasn't love, per say, but it was something. Maybe the beginnings of love? Strong affection, certainly. And he knew he felt something for Derek. Maybe one day they'd love each other. Maybe Stiles would see him as a human because of that love.

 

He wanted that. He wanted to fall in love with Derek and break the curse. He wanted to live in the woods, in the large house with the charred side of the house near the barn, in the room that looked out at the rocky stream with the two arm chairs for him and Derek to read in, and in the overly large bed they couldn't stay on opposite sides of.

 

He wanted to kiss him again.

 

He had to flee the table before he did something to reveal himself. He went into their barn and tossed a pinch of herbs into a barrel of water. "I want to see him. Show me Derek."

 

And there he was. He was lying in bed, not asleep, just staring up at the ceiling. He held Stiles' discarded red scarf clasped to his chest, the one that had been shredded during the wolf attack. Stiles wished he could touch, could speak to him in a way that would wipe the lonely look from his face. He wished he could bounce on the bed beside him until Derek was forced to smile at him and shove him off.

 

He just wanted to go back to his pack.

 

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

 

He waited a full fortnight, hoping Chris Argent would stop watching him in that time. However, Mr. Argent still caught him when he attempted to sneak into the woods.

 

Argent claimed that he was searching for one of his family’s dogs that had gotten out of their yard but Stiles knew without a single doubt that he was lying. He claimed Allison had begged him to go after it, but Stiles knew that was the biggest lie of all. Allison had learned at a very young age – and her parents knew it too – that their dogs were never gone for long and typically would be at the backdoor when the Argents filled their bowl for breakfast.

 

Stiles did nothing to show his disbelief but instead told a lie about being unable to sleep. He claimed that he hadn’t wanted to wake his father, so he had left the house to walk.

 

Mr. Argent quite obviously didn’t believe him. “Well, it’s dangerous to walk this close to the tree line. You should walk closer to town.” Stiles smiled and nodded his agreement even though it really was none of Mr. Argent’s business where he walked. “Tell you what, why don’t I walk you home?”

 

“That’s really not necessary,” Stiles tried to protest but Argent took hold of his elbow and steered him in the direction of his house anyway.

 

“You’re my daughter’s closest friend. She’d never forgive me if something happened to you when I could prevent it.”

 

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

 

The perfect opportunity to leave presented itself the next day. The chicken coup desperately needed new wire and no one in town had any to sell. Stiles barely kept from whooping enthusiastically when he discovered this. He ran home and started loading Je up.

 

He could have two whole days with this excuse. He told his dad he was going to ride to the town on the other side of the woods and kissed him goodbye. Danny came over to deliver the milk right before he was set to leave and Stiles asked him politely to stay with his father while he was gone. Danny immediately agreed, since it was the perfect excuse for him to be anywhere but home.

 

Stiles rode down the main road through town. It was the best route that caused the least amount of suspicion. Plus, when he reached the cross section for the road to take him to their neighboring town, the track marks from the road’s near constant use would hide it when he veered into the woods. He paused when he saw Allison coming out of the general store to bid farewell and tell her – and her eavesdropping mother – where he was off to. Allison gave him a kiss and wished him a safe journey, teasingly making him promise not to disappear again.

 

He let Je walk out of town lazily, and then kicked her into a gallop. They went down the road until he saw the drive up to the mansion. Since he was welcome there, he could see it, however he knew if anyone not welcome came down the road, they would see naught but trees and brush.

 

He had Je gallop down the drive and barely kept from cheering when the mansion came into view. Before he even reached the gate, Lydia was opening the front door and running down the steps. He slid off Je before she even came to a stop and caught Lydia up in a hug when she reached him. She laughed happily at being lifted up.

 

“How are you back?” she asked joyfully.

 

“I’ll tell you in a second, I’m sure everyone else will have the same question. Just let me get Je into the barn,” he told her, turning to grab Je’s reigns.

 

She took them from him quickly and said, “You go in. I’ll put Je away.”

 

He nodded because he knew there was no use fighting and went up the front steps. Derek met him right inside the door and hugged him immediately. Stiles gripped onto him like a lifeline and nearly melted with the contentedness and pleasure that came with finally being back. When they were finally forced to separate, it was because everyone else was attempting to get at him for their own hugs. He laughed and gave everyone one.

 

“I missed you guys too!” he chuckled. “I’d have come back sooner but Chris Argent has been a monumental pain in my ass.” He shrugged out of his jacket and quickly hung it up. He left his shoes by the door and pointed towards the lounge. “I need pack cuddles.”

 

Several people laughed. They went into the lounge and dragged the cushions, pillows, and blankets from every piece of furniture and the storage spots under the window seat. Then they all splayed themselves out as much as they could while maintaining the hilarious similarity to a puppy pile. Lydia joined them once everyone had settled in, devoid of her wrap and shoes. She took her spot and Jackson came off the ceiling to curl around her.

 

“All right. Now answer the question,” she demanded, still smiling pleasantly. “Does it have something to do with the plan Derek told me about?”

 

“When was there a plan,” Isaac asked, looking at Derek in surprise. “that actually worked?”

 

“Isaac, so nice of you to volunteer to do the dishes tonight,” Derek replied dryly.

 

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

 

Dinner with the pack was fantastic. Sitting in the lounge afterwards was even better. Stiles sat between Derek’s thighs while Derek leaned against the couch and the others lied out with their heads on his and Derek’s legs. He snuggled back into Derek’s arms and fell asleep happy, warm, and surrounded by his pack.

 

He woke up when Lydia started shifting around. He looked around and saw that he wasn’t the only one who had fallen asleep. Even Melissa, who had chosen to sit on the sofa instead of the rug, was sleeping with her head pillowed in her hands. Lydia was shifted around like she was cold; Stiles doubted her lizard love offered much warmth. Stiles jabbed Scott with his finger and he startled awake. Stiles pointed at Lydia and Scott sat up and grabbed a blanket off the chair. He covered his mom then grabbed another and picked Lydia up off the floor effortlessly. He maneuvered her between him and Isaac then covered her with a blanket.

 

“Thanks, Scott,” Stiles whispered with a smile.

 

Scott hummed a sleepy acknowledgement. Lydia rolled over and snuggled into the warmth of Scott and Isaac’s sides. Jackson crawled around to curl over her legs again.

 

Derek pressed his face into Stiles’ neck and mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like, “Shut up and sleep.”

 

Stiles smiled even more and turned his head to press a kiss to Derek’s head. Derek lifted his barely awake gaze to look at him and leaned in to kiss him softly. Stiles kissed back just as gently then turned as much as he could with two heads on his calves to snuggle into Derek’s chest.

 

“Did you two just kiss?”


	16. The Lie

The pack was devastated by how soon he had to leave; no matter that he had managed to increase his stay until almost nightfall, because of the spare chicken wire in the barn. They all clung on to him and pleaded with him to stay just one more day.

 

“I would if I could,” he answered over and over. Finally, Derek ordered everyone to cease and they all backed off and quieted.

 

“He has to leave now,” Derek said firmly, “But he’ll be back. Have some faith.”

 

Stiles smiled at him and said, “You’re so full of it!” teasingly. He moved in and wrapped his arms around Derek’s middle. “‘Have some faith,’ he says. I bet you’re sitting there begging me not to make you a liar in your head, you big distrusting puppy.”

 

“I am not a puppy,” Derek replied petulantly, even as he returned the embrace and kissed the top of Stiles’ head.

 

Stiles chuckled and pulled back to grin at him. “Fine, fine. You’re a cub.” Derek shook his head and narrowed his eyes threateningly. Stiles laughed. “I really do have to go.” Derek nodded and leaned his head down for a kiss. Stiles smiled into their kiss, his heart soaring above even the tallest trees, and then reluctantly moved back. “Alright, last hugs then I’m gone.”

 

Everyone crowded in for their hugs.

 

Stiles rode Je back home and finally let his sadness show. He really didn’t want to leave. But he had to. At least until his affection for Derek grew into love and Derek would be free to travel as he pleased and to allow others to know of his existence. Then he could come and go from the village as he pleased, possibly with one of the wolves at his side when he did so. But as it stood, the pack had to be kept a secret.

 

Allison was outside her house, filling her dogs’ bowls with dinner scrap, when he rode by on his way home. She shouted happily after him and he brought Je to a halt to greet her. He slid off his beloved horse’s back and hugged Allison briefly. “I was worried you might get lost again,” she teased.

 

He chuckled. “I almost did. There was something shiny in the trees.” She rolled her eyes and smiled at his joke then took a sugar cube from her apron pocket for Je. “She’s so spoiled today,” Stiles told her thoughtlessly, thinking of how every pack member had offered her sugar and apples while she was being saddled. She looked at him to elaborate and he quickly lied, “There were some children who visited the stables this morning.”

 

“Really?” Stiles jumped when Allison’s mother spoke. He hadn’t even noticed her approaching from the front of the house. “It’s so strange that I didn’t see them. Nor did I see Je this morning, or last night.”

 

Stiles’ heart nearly stopped. “What?”

 

“Mom went to Hill Valley yesterday evening,” Allison explained before looking at her mother curiously. “What do you mean you didn’t see Je?”

 

“I mean, I went to check in on your friend last night when I reached Hill Valley but could find neither him nor his horse,” Mrs. Argent replied, staring at Stiles and only Stiles as she spoke. “Can you explain why that was, Mr. Stilinski? I was ever so worried.”

 

Stiles sincerely doubted that. He thought quickly and said, “I didn’t say I was in the motel, ma’am. The general store owner had a room available for half the price, plus a hot meal. I stayed with him and his family. His children were the ones who were feeding Je treats.” He shifted Je’s reigns to his other hand and said, “It’s a pity we didn’t run into each other, Mrs. Argent. I hate that I worried you, but I spent most of my time with the general store owner’s children and his poor chicken coup. I helped his wife fix it, in return for cheaper wire for my own, and then played with the children all day.”

 

“Really?” Mrs. Argent replied drily, obviously suspicious of him. “You didn’t want to enjoy the town?”

 

“I’ve been to Hill Valley many times,” he said flippantly. “It’s lost its charm.” He looked at Allison and grinned cheekily. “I can’t wait for you to have children for me to play with.”

 

Allison smiled and her mother immediately jumped on the new subject, telling Stiles all about the suitor she had found for Allison and how lovely his and Allison’s children would be. Stiles listened with thinly veiled disdain for the entire conversation. He wanted to snap that Allison would be better with Scott, that their children would be twenty times as adorable as any pretentious rich boy’s children. He wanted to tell her of Scott’s twenty thousand a year and his love for Allison.

 

Allison stroked Je’s fur absently, for once not jumping in to snap at her mother or fight the potential husband. Her expression hinted at something she was thinking of that pained her, something far away from them and their conversation. Stiles wished he knew what it was so he could offer support and comfort.

 

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

 

His father saw the town doctor and was cleared to remove his splint. He could see his father eyeing his guns and badge where they hung on the door eagerly even as the doctor spoke. He hoped the doctor was right and his father would be fine, but he trusted the old man about as far as he could throw him. He wished his father would wait another few days to return to work and told him so when the doctor left.

 

“I’ll be fine, Stiles. I’ll only be working behind the desk anyway,” he told him lightheartedly. Stiles sighed and went to get his father’s house shoes from the wardrobe. “Stop worrying, kid,” his father pleaded kindly. “I’m the parent here, remember?” Stiles had to resist the urge to roll his eyes at that. As if he could ever stop worrying. “Why don’t you focus on what you’re going to do with all the spare time instead?”

 

“Spare time?” Stiles replied, pausing with the slippers in hand. He hadn’t even thought of it, but with his father back at work, he would have most of the day to himself. They had a small house and he didn’t have many chores per day. Feed the chickens, sweep, prep dinner… Not much at all and less during the day and the winter. He usually spent his time walking around, reading, or playing with Allison’s dogs. The chill sometimes confined him to his home, however, and no one would question that as they got further and further into winter.

 

“Yeah, you know, spare time. Since you won’t have to look after me all day,” his dad answered, oblivious to all the plans racing through his son’s mind.

 

“Yeah,” Stiles breathed, then cleared his throat and turned around. “I don’t have enough books for all that free time. I’ll have to find some work and get more.” His dad grinned. Stiles felt his stomach churn at having to lie to him but he knew that eventually he wouldn’t and that made him feel a tiny bit better.

 

“I can give you some money to get some, but you’ll have to go to Hill Valley,” his father said. Stiles’ looked at him with his eagerness hidden behind a mask of curiosity. “The bookshop is closed, since Mr. Wells’ wife just had a baby.”

 

“Right,” Stiles hummed. “I forgot.” He handed over his father’s slippers and went over to the door. “I’ll go tomorrow after I feed the chickens, that way I can be back to make supper and we can talk about your first day back.”

 

As he left, he saw his father grinning in the mirror beside the door.

 

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

 

“You’re going to Hill Valley again?” Allison asked with a frown. Stiles nodded and climbed clumsily over her fence. She laughed when he fell into the snow. “What for this time?”

 

“Books,” he replied cheerfully. “Since Dad’s going back to work, I need something to keep me occupied. I’m going to take some of mine and trade them, maybe buy a few more if the price is right.” He brushed off his trousers and walked over to her porch. She was sitting on the bench, petting one of the older dogs that her father no longer used for hunting. Danny was leaning on the wall beside her.

 

“I don’t suppose you’d take some of mine to trade for me?” he asked politely.

 

Stiles nodded. “Sure,” he agreed before he sat on the porch and let the dogs come to assault him with kisses and cold noses. “Allison, I’ll take some for you too, if you want.”

 

“I’d love that,” she said with a grateful smile.

 

“I’ll probably get back right before supper, so I’ll bring ‘em by the morning after,” he told them as he petted the eager dogs around her. “Danny, could you check in on Dad during the day for me?”

 

“Sure,” Danny agreed with a nod of his own. “I’ll bring him some lunch.”

 

“Promise to have a slice of Ms. Dawn’s apple pie for us,” Allison said. Stiles grinned and licked his lips. Hmm. Ms. Dawn’s apple pie. She laughed.

 

“I wonder if she’d pack some up for me,” he pondered, finally pushing the dogs back. “Just something so I could bake it at home, you know?”

 

“That would be heavenly. If she will, get another for me. I love her pies.” Stiles and Danny both nodded their agreement. Allison looked down at the dog on her lap. “I’m so jealous. I wonder if Mom would let me tag along.”

 

Stiles sat straight up and said, “No!” loudly. Allison and Danny both looked at him like he had lost his mind. He quickly forced himself to appear calm. “I mean, no, I can bring some back for you.” He fidgeted with his jacket buttons nervously. “Plus, you know, they’re probably still nervous about letting you leave. I know my dad is.”

 

Allison nodded. “That’s true. I swear, if the leash were any tighter, I’d be attached to her hip.”

 

Stiles breathed a sigh of relief as the subject changed from his trip, to Allison’s mother and father’s newly deep seeded fear of her vanishing again and the over protectiveness that came with it.

 

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

 

He rode to the mansion in the woods the next morning; Lydia met him outside. He dismounted and followed her inside, leaving Je in the front garden. Derek and the others met them in the front hall and Derek took his cold hands in his own to warm them up.

 

“You’re back so soon,” Scott noted eagerly, crowding in on Stiles more than anyone and sniffing like a puppy after a treat in his owner’s pocket. Stiles felt like his owner when he pulled Allison’s tiny purse from his pocket. He handed it over and Scott sniffed it joyfully.

 

“Creepy,” Stiles said before looking at Derek and grinning. “I’m on my way to Hill Valley. You guys wanna come?”

 

“We’ll be ready in a half hour,” Lydia said immediately, grabbing Erica by her arm and dragging her up the stairs. “You boys get the sleigh ready.”

 

Boyd heaved a long suffering sigh. “I better go make sure they don’t kill each other.”

 

Stiles smiled as he watched him trudge up the stairs after his love and her tormentor. He looked at Derek and stepped closer. Derek smiled at him and blew hot air on Stiles’ still icy fingers. “You have to wear your gloves, Stiles,” he chastised gently. “You’ll lose these fingers if you’re not careful.”

 

Stiles rolled his eyes. “I will not. I’m not sticking them in any snow banks, you know.”

 

Derek rolled his eyes but Stiles could tell he wasn’t in the mood to argue. He pulled his hands from Derek’s and leaned forward to nudge their noses together affectionately. “What’s wrong?”

 

The others conveniently dispersed. Stiles tensed and looked at Derek nervously. “Uh-oh.”

 

Derek smiled reassuringly. “It’s nothing. Lydia’s just stressing about Christmas. She wants us to talk about whether or not you’ll be here.”

 

“So she wants a timeline for breaking the curse,” Stiles surmised. He knew Lydia and Derek enough to read between the lines. “She wants to know if I’ll be entirely devoted to you in a month.” Derek nodded. Stiles huffed angrily. “I don’t know. Why does she think we’d know that?” He growled and backed away from Derek. “Did she know exactly when she’d fall for Jackson? No, she didn’t! So why expect us to know?”

 

“Stiles,” Derek said cajolingly. He gripped his shoulders gently and said, “She’s just impatient. Don’t let it worry you.”

 

Stiles sulked irritably until Derek pulled him in and carefully kissed his forehead. He gripped Derek’s hands on his shoulders and leaned into him. “I wanna know when I’ll be able to break the curse too.”

 

“I know,” Derek assured him, rubbing his shoulders tenderly. “I know, Stiles. But please don’t worry, all right? There really isn’t a rush. Don’t let Lydia upset you.”

 

Stiles did not feel better. “Easy for you to say. Everyone’s happiness is depending on my feelings. Feelings I can’t predict or change, no matter how hard I want to. I want to love you know, but I can’t change the fact that I don’t. I care for you, certainly, but I still need time before I can definitively say I love you. And it just doesn’t seem fair to the others.”

 

“The others won’t care when, so long as the curse is broken,” Derek replied firmly. He kissed Stiles to silence his argument and Stiles forgot all about the others, his mind only on Derek and his hot, slow kiss. “I think the others are done getting the sleigh ready.”

 

“Don’t care,” Stiles breathed dreamily. He reeled Derek in for another kiss. When they parted again for air, he mumbled, “Even with the fangs, you’re a really great kisser.”

 

“And what would you know?” Derek teased. “How many people have you been kissing, hmm?”

 

“No one but you,” Stiles replied, rolling his eyes. “No one else is stupid enough to want to kiss the kid who never shuts up.”

 

“Why?” Derek replied with a smirk. “It’s a fantastic way to shut you up.” He leaned in for another kiss. Stiles bit his bottom lip.


	17. The Dreams

Stiles rode alongside the sleigh on the way to HillValley. Boyd and Derek drove the sleigh as fast as the horses could pull it, racing him with barely concealed mirth in their eyes. Erica took swipes at Stiles from the sleigh to see how well he dodged. Derek eventually ordered her to stop after Stiles nearly steered Je into the side of the sled avoiding her. He gave Stiles disapproving eyes over the top of his scarf. They slowed all the horses to a gentle trot right before reaching HillValley.

 

Stiles tied Je up right outside the bookshop while Derek found a place on the main road for the sleigh. Stiles took the books from his saddlebag and carried them into the shop. The old shopkeeper immediately perked up upon seeing him. Stiles smiled at him and placed the bundles of books on the counter. “Hi there,” he greeted cheerfully. “I have some books for trade.”

 

The old man beamed. “Absolutely! Why don’t I assess these while you browse?”

 

“Sounds good,” Stiles agreed before going to do just that.

 

“My, my.” A cold shiver went up Stiles’ back. “You took your time getting here, didn’t you?” He reluctantly turned from the books to greet Mrs. Argent. “Did something happen?”

 

“No, ma’am,” he answered nervously. “I just got distracted.” The old shop keep looked as uncomfortable as Stiles felt. “What are you doing here, Mrs. Argent? Allison said you’d be with her all day.”

 

“She is,” Allison said, as she entered the shop behind her mother. She looked so pleased to be out of her house, Stiles felt horrible for wishing she was back there. She pulled off her gloves and came to hug him. “Did you see a squirrel?” she teased.

 

“Ha ha,” Stiles said dryly.

 

“Where’s my purse?” Allison asked sweetly. Stiles, grateful that he had made Scott return it, pulled it from his pocket. “Thank you,” Allison said as she took it and went to talk to the old man about the books. “Mother, you can go if you like. I promise to stay here with Stiles.”

 

Mrs. Argent smirked at Stiles and said, “Very well. Take good care of my little girl, Mr. Stilinski. I’ll return when I’m done at the seamstress.”

 

“All right,” Allison answered while Stiles forced himself not to gulp or show any other signs of nerves. Mrs. Argent smirked at him one last time then left the show, her long dress and coat swishing after her like the villain in a fairytale.

 

Stiles backed up then turned to look at Allison. She smiled apologetically. “She’s been like that all day.”

 

“I have no idea how someone like you came from her,” Stiles told her unkindly. Allison frowned but didn’t appear to disagree, which Stiles found kind of sad.

 

Derek and Scott stepped into the shop while Allison was discussing her books with the shop keep. Derek pointed Scott in the direction of the fantasy books, where he could covertly look at Allison without being noticed, then slid up beside Stiles. “We’re going to head home. We can’t risk running into her mother,” he whispered, pretending to be looking over the books before them.

 

“I think they followed me,” Stiles whispered back. Derek nodded just enough for Stiles to see but not enough for anyone else. “She’s suspicious. I’ll need to be careful for a while.”

 

Derek’s hand brushed across his own over the spine of a book. Stiles sighed sadly, wishing for a hug goodbye instead. Maybe even a kiss. “We’ll see you when we see you.”

 

Stiles stared sadly as Derek and Scott left the store, Scott with one last glance at Allison. Allison joined him by the shelf a second later. “What should we find for Danny?” she asked with her beautiful, glowing smile. Stiles felt horrible for not being able to offer more than the slightest upturn of his mouth. Thankfully, she either didn’t notice or chose not to comment.

 

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

 

Mrs. Argent insisted he eat lunch with her and Allison. They ate at Ms. Dawn’s; Mrs. Argent, despite, the forceful insistence for Stiles to eat with them, went over her shopping list for most of the time and ignored them completely. He and Allison chatted about the books they had gotten while they ate their meals, and then moved on to trying to figure out what Ms. Dawn’s secret ingredient might be for the pies. They were debating what type of apples she must use when one of Mrs. Argent’s friends arrived and she went outside to talk to him.

 

Allison went quiet after her mother bid them farewell and it took Stiles asking her what was wrong for her to speak again. She leaned in and lowered her voice. “Do you ever have dreams so vivid, it’s almost like they’re vivid? Like memories? But the things that are in them are so wild, they just can’t be memories?” She stirred her tea thoughtfully. “But they just feel so real anyway?”

 

Stiles frowned. “Not really,” he admitted. “Most of my vivid dreams _are_ memories. What sort of dreams have you been having?”

 

Allison hesitated. “They’re strange,” she warned. He shrugged. She starred into her tea and swirled it with her spoon. “Sometimes it’s just little things. Sitting in a grand room with monsters around me.” Stiles’ eyes went wide and he leaned in to listen to her. “They have fangs and glowing eyes,” she whispered. “But there’s one that’s a huge lizard.”

 

“I’ve never heard of a monster like that,” Stiles lied gently.

 

“Me either,” she replied, shaking her head. “The rest of them look like werewolves, maybe? Or something.” He nodded, even though she wasn’t looking at him. “But they’re kind. In my dreams, they’re always kind.”

 

“All monsters may not be evil,” Stiles said quickly. “Just like all humans aren’t good.”

 

Allison nodded absently. She looked around for eavesdroppers then leaned even closer to him – practically on the table now – and whispered, “There’s one that holds my hand and says he wishes he could kiss me,” hurriedly. She sat back down in her chair and Stiles swore he had never seen her so vulnerable. “But the fangs get in the way when we try, so he holds me in his arms instead.”

 

“Oh my God,” he whispered under his breath. She couldn’t even hear him. “You…You love that one?”

 

She flushed and looked even more like a frightened child talking about a nightmare. “I…I think I care for him.” She shook her head and leaned forward again, suddenly not vulnerable at all. She fixed her eyes on his and said, “How can I care for someone I’ve only met in my dreams?”

 

Before he could answer, however, her mother walked in and started over to their table. She sat down and sighed happily. “I do hope my tea stayed warm,” she said. Allison sank back in her chair. “What’s wrong, dear?”

 

“Nothing, Mom,” Allison replied, shaking her head. “We’ve just been discussing those nightmares I’ve been having recently.”

 

“Since you returned,” her mother said, nodding with a suddenly dark expression and hateful look in her eyes. Stiles licked his lips nervously. “All night, tossing and turning, pleading to return to her home.”

 

“Just to return,” Allison corrected before frowning like she didn’t understand that. “I think.”

 

Stiles said nothing while Mrs. Argent began to talk to Allison about the rest of the shopping list. He was thinking. He had to get back to the pack. He had to talk to Derek about why Allison was remembering. He decided to take a chance and ask Allison for help.

 

While Mrs. Argent paid for lunch, he leaned over and whispered into Allison’s ear, “I need to go somewhere. I can’t have your mother following.” Allison frowned at him. “Can you help?”

 

“Why would she follow you?” Allison asked perplexedly.

 

“I’ll tell you later,” Stiles promised emptily. He’d feel bad about it once he had time. “Help me,” he pleaded. “Please?”

 

She looked over at her mother, swallowed nervously, then looked back at him and nodded. He grinned. “What do I need to do?”

 

“Just don’t let her leave HillValley for two hours, okay? Insist on getting the shopping done or something.” Allison nodded. He beamed. “Thank you. You’re the greatest.” She rolled her eyes and smiled.

 

Mrs. Argent returned and Stiles stood up as soon as she sat down. “Well, I’m going to head home,” he said as calmly as he could. “I’ve got to get supper started and get these books to Danny.”

 

He pulled on his gloves as Mrs. Argent’s eyes flared with distrust and she quickly reached for her own gloves and jacket. “We’ll come with you, dear, if you’ll allow me time to find our driver.”

 

“What about the shopping, Mother?” Allison protested quickly. Stiles pulled on his jacket and nodded his support. “We haven’t gotten Father’s ink or paper yet. Or the wire for the coup. We have much to do, remember?” She placed a hand over her mother’s hand to still it and her mother turned that suspicious gaze on her. “Stiles is fine to go home alone. It’s not a long ride.”

 

Her mother’s jaw grew tense and she spoke through clenched teeth, “Allison, we’re going.”

 

“Really, Mrs. Argent,” Stiles interjected when Allison only looked at her mother with fear. “I don’t want to ruin your shopping trip. Please, stay. Have a good time. Get Allison something pretty for meeting her fiancé.”

 

She looked torn and Stiles smirked internally. “Do you remember that dark green gown she had for the town ball two years ago? The one that tore? I saw that the fabric shop had something similar to that material. It was so beautiful on her.”

 

“Oh,” Allison cooed excitedly. She leaned forward and took both her mother’s hands. “We could get some beautiful white lace or sheer material to dress it up. Then I could wear my pearl hair pins. I know you want me to wear those when he comes.”

 

Mrs. Argent looked like she wanted to kill them both, but she obviously liked the idea of presenting her daughter in the color she looked best in more. She nodded. “Very well. We’ll see about the fabric and finish the list. We’ll check in on you before we go home,” she said to Stiles almost threateningly. “Just to make sure you haven’t been lost.”

 

He nodded and jammed his hat on his head eagerly. “That’s wonderfully kind of you.” Then he bent to kiss Allison’s cheek and practically ran out. He encountered their driver on the street and pressed coins into his hand quickly. “Allison isn’t in any hurry to get home. Drive slow and make any excuse you can.”

 

The driver nodded and he grinned at him before running off to Je.

 

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

 

Scott just barely managed to meet him in the front hall when he ran into the mansion. “What’s wrong?” he asked, eyes wide. “Is Allison okay?”

 

“She’s fine, but we may have a problem,” he answered quickly. “Where are Derek and Lydia?”

 

“I’ll get Lydia,” Scott replied, the urgency in Stiles’ voice causing him to practically vibrate with excitement. “Derek’s up in his room.”

 

Stiles jogged up the stairs while Scott went off to find Lydia, pulling off his gloves and winter clothes on the way. Derek met him at the door to his bedroom and asked him anxiously what was wrong. Stiles calmed him with a gesture then guided him over to sit on the sofa. Since they had to wait for Lydia, he didn’t start talking straightaway and instead chose to stand between Derek’s knees and kiss his head gently. Derek smiled up at him before closing his eyes and enjoying the repeated kisses Stiles bestowed on his cheeks, nose, and brow. He even bent to kiss Derek’s chin.

 

“And yet the curse remains.” Lydia walked in with her arms folded across her chest and dropped unceremoniously into the unoccupied space on the couch. She glared at them both.

 

“I told you, I’m getting there,” Stiles replied firmly before he stepped back from Derek’s knees and sat on the coffee table. “Okay, so, what would it mean if Allison is remembering?”

 

“That’s not possible,” Lydia replied, rolling her eyes. “The potion never fails.”

 

“Well, she told me she’s been having dreams about Scott and her time here,” Stiles replied, irritated by her apparent lack of interest. “So unless you have another explanation, I think we need to consider the possibility that the potion may not be working at full potential and do something.”

 

“There is a way that the potion wouldn’t work,” Derek cut in before Lydia could do more than open her mouth to snap back at Stiles. They both looked at him curiously. “Deaton warned us that a strong emotional connection could void the potion. You said she’s dreaming about Scott. She could have started to feel something for Scott while she was here and the potion has started to be corrupted by those emotions.”

 

“You think she feels something for me?” Scott said suddenly from the doorway. Derek smiled and rolled his eyes with exasperated fondness.

 

“Don’t you have chores to do?” he asked rhetorically.

 

Stiles smiled and looked back at Derek. “So that’s your answer? She’s got feelings for Scott and they’re making the potion not work?” Derek just shrugged. Stiles hummed thoughtfully. “Do we give her more or what?”

 

“No,” Lydia said firmly. “Deaton warned against that. And anyway, if it didn’t work once, it won’t work the second go around.” She crossed her legs at the knees and shook her head. “We can’t do anything without damaging her mind.”

 

Stiles sighed and nodded. “I thought so.” He stood up and started pulling on his gloves and such again. “I have to go. Allison can’t keep Mrs. Argent in Hill Valley forever and I should be halfway home by now.”

 

“I’ll follow you and brush away your tracks,” Scott offered. Stiles nodded and leaned over to kiss Derek’s forehead again.

 

“Bye,” Derek said listlessly as he headed out of the room. “Stay safe.”

 

“I’ll be fine.” He encountered Ms. McCall in the hall and hugged her tightly while giving her a quick update about his father. She smiled happily and asked for more information the next time he managed to get out and visit them. He agreed and hurried to get outside and onto his horse. She shouted out after him to make sure his scarf was tight. He grinned as he hoped the last few stairs. Scott vaulted over him and the stairs completely. “Show off.”

 

Scott snickered. “You should see Derek flip over them. It’s hilarious.”

 


	18. The Tall-Tale

He made it back with hours to spare. He set about putting supper on and unpacking Je’s saddle so it looked like he had gotten back exactly when he would have, had he gone straight home. It was quite a bit of work but he managed to have everything done before the light knock on his door. He opened the door and invited Mrs. Argent and Allison inside. He served them tea as thanks for coming to check on him and understanding his desire to leave early. Allison sat on the floor in front of the fireplace to warm her hands while Mrs. Argent watched him like a predator, waiting for any sign of weakness so she could jump up and attack. He did not give her one.

 

Instead he looked at Allison’s pattern and material and listened to the plan for the dress’s appearance attentively, occasionally pausing to stir the pot hanging in his fireplace. “Why not the stove?” Allison asked the first time he moved up from touching the soft, green fabric to stir. “Is it broken again?”

 

“Yeah,” he said with a heavy sigh. The stove’s refusal to light had prompted quite a bit of panic only a few dozen moments before. “I’m gonna have to get Danny to look at it later. It’s better I don’t try and fiddle with it.”

 

Allison laughed. Her mother pursed her lips even tighter.

 

“We really must get home now, Allison,” she said, rising from the sofa.

 

“Already?” Allison replied, disappointed. “Could I stay behind and wait for Danny?” Her mother almost looked like she would say no, but apparently opted for nodding. Allison beamed and climbed to her feet to escort her mother to the door and help her into her coat.

 

“I’ll send your father to collect you when dinner is ready,” Mrs. Argent told her before placing a kiss on her cheek and leaving. Stiles carried the fabrics out to the sleigh for her and played footman before running back inside, rubbing his arms and shivering as soon as the door shut behind him.

 

“I think a storm’s moving in,” he muttered, toeing off his shoes and going to sit on the rug with Allison. He sighed contently as the warmth from the fire washed over him. Allison smiled and rolled her eyes. She had commented from the very first winter they had weathered in each other’s acquaintance that he had thin skin. He stirred the stew again then nudged the pot over with his pot holder to set the kettle on beside it. “All right. I’m guessing you’re ready for that explanation now.”

 

“Tea first. I’m still cold too.” He smiled gratefully and went to get the herbs from the kitchen. The kettle whistled and he quickly took it off before the noise could even go on for more than a second. He hated that noise and honestly, he had gotten used to being quick when he removed it while he lived with the pack. It hurt the wolves’ ears.

 

As soon as he and Allison had their tea to warm them from the inside out, and cup in their cold fingers, she settled down on the rug and gestured for him to go on. He sighed and held his tea in his lap. “You won’t believe it,” he warned.

 

“You promised,” she insisted.

 

“Fine! But…you have to promise not to tell anyone,” he said firmly. “Whether you believe it or not, you can’t tell a single soul. Not Danny, not my dad, and neither of your parents. _Especially_ not them.” She nodded and drew an ‘X’ over her heart with her finger. “Okay.”

 

He sipped his tea once more then said, “When I went looking for Dad, I found this house out in the woods. It looked abandoned, but had enough of a roof that I thought maybe Dad went in anyway. Took shelter or something. But when I opened the gate, the house transformed. It became this beautiful mansion with vibrant gardens and smoke curling out the chimneys. It was frightening, but I went and knocked on the door anyway.”

 

That was the only sentence Allison appeared to believe, but that didn’t surprise him.

 

“A young girl opened the door,” he continued, “And basically told me to go away. Until I mentioned my dad, then she let me in. It turned out that she and her nanny found Dad after he was injured and took him in. Her nanny was trained as a medic, since they live so far away from everyone else. They took great care of him, obviously, but he wasn’t ready to be moved. So I stayed, on the condition that when he was ready, I let them erase my memories of my time with them.”

 

“They were witches?” she cut in.

 

“I…I don’t know,” he replied hesitantly. “They never told me and always told me not to ask.” Allison nodded and sipped her tea to hide her weary expression. “I don’t think they were. They went out to get the potion and never did any magic in front of me. I think they knew someone who did have magic though. I heard them mention someone when they didn’t think I was listening.”

 

She nodded again, this time not looking weary but rather more like she understood and maybe believed him a little. He wondered if she had heard something through a door or walked in on a conversation that cut off when she was noticed.

 

“But anyway, I was with them for a very long time. Then you and Danny showed up and you did the same thing I did. And you wouldn’t leave, no matter how I begged or how they begged. Finally, you agreed to take the potion too and you stayed,” he explained solemnly. “The potion was ready two weeks later. We all took it and had time to reach the outskirts of the village before it took effect.”

 

“How would you know if we were made to forget?” Allison asked, shaking her head and looking overwhelmed.

 

“Because something went wrong with my dose. I remembered. I asked you to keep your mother in HillValley so I could go see if what I remembered was real,” he told her.

 

“And was it?” she asked as kindly as she could with sheer disbelief in her eyes.

 

He smiled sadly and shook his head. “Only the house. There really is an old mansion in the woods. But it’s completely empty. There’s no magic around it and there’s no one living in it.” She frowned but actually appeared to believe him, for nearly the first time since he started talking. “I don’t know why. I think I must have been mixing something I read with the image of the house and of the girl. I’ve seen her and her nanny before on trips to HillValley. But I don’t even know their names, let alone where they live. All I know is that they don’t live in an abandoned house in the woods.”

 

They both fell silent, sipping their tea and waiting for Allison to process everything he had told her. He hoped against hope that she bought the tale. “I wonder if my dreams are because of something I’ve read too,” she suddenly whispered.

 

He could only offer a shrug and another cup of tea.

 

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

 

“So why ask me not to tell anyone?” Allison asked as she wiggled into her boots, balancing only because of her grip on Stiles’ arms. Danny and her father were fussing with the stove together while Stiles helped her bundle up. He had been right about the storm after all, and the snow was now almost up to his front porch steps and still coming down. The wind was brutal.

 

“Because I really don’t need anyone thinking I’m crazy,” he told her. Then he laughed. “Well, crazier, I guess.” She smiled and breathed a light laugh. She finally got into the uncooperative boot and he reached for one of his jackets. Despite her protests, he eventually got her into it then put her in her own coat and her scarf. She pulled on her bonnet then wrapped her scarf once around her head to protect her ears and then around to cover part of her mouth. He found a spare blanket while she was pulling on her gloves and wrapped it around her. “No arguing. I’ll get it back from you later.”

 

She couldn’t have argued very effectively anyway. Not with her scarf covering most of her face.

 

“Thank you, Stiles,” Mr. Argent said once he and Danny finally got the stove to light. He started adjusting his own winter clothes back into position to go out.

 

“No problem. Listen, if it seems too dangerous to press on, just turn around, okay? I leave a lantern in the window all night and the door unlocked. We’ve got the room and the food for you both.” Mr. Argent gave him a firm pat on the shoulder in gratitude then went out. Stiles watched from the window to make sure they got on the horse all right then set the lantern on the windowsill as promised. He could tell the horse was already fighting against the window but he let Mr. Argent make the decision on whether to go home or not and turned away. “I hope Dad doesn’t try to make it home in this whether.”

 

“He won’t,” Danny reassured him. “He took Philippe to work. That stubborn thing wouldn’t even leave his stall when the weather’s like this.”

 

“I never thought I’d be grateful for a stubborn horse,” Stiles said with a laugh. He went to get bowls from the cupboard and told Danny to slice up some bread. As he was ladling stew into the two bowls, he heard the door crash open and Allison grumbling angrily at it and the weather. He went for two more bowls while Danny went to help her get it shut again.

 

“Daddy’s putting the horse in the barn and locking it up for you,” she said. “Danny, help me out of these.” Stiles ladled out hot stew and sliced the bread while Danny helped Allison – who was already pink with cold and covered in snow – out of her gloves and boots.

 

“If they’re wet, come hang ‘em over the stove,” Stiles directed. “And go ahead and put the boots by the fireplace. No point trying to dry them outside.” The door opened again, only Mr. Argent managed to keep a much better grip on it long enough to slip in and slam it shut. Stiles put the kettle on the stove and got it burning. Danny helped Mr. Argent out of his gloves too then went and hung them up.

 

“We definitely appreciate it, Stiles,” Mr. Argent said as he unwrapped his daughter from her bundling of blanket, coats, and scarf. Then he directed her to the sofa and wrapped her in the quilt off the back of it.

 

“Not a problem,” Stiles assured him as he brought Allison her bowl. Danny disappeared into the bedroom to fetch another blanket for Mr. Argent. “Hope you like beef stew.”

 

“I like anything warm right now,” Allison told him as she warmed her hands around her bowl.

 

Once more, the door burst open. This time, Stiles jumped with surprise. His father stumbled through and slammed it shut again, then threw the lock bar down for good measure. “Glad you put the chickens in the barn, son, cause it is storming like a bitch out there.” He paused when he had his scarf off and looked at Allison apologetically. “Sorry, sweetheart.”

 

“That’s alright,” she said with a giggle.

 

“How did you even manage to get home?” Stiles asked as he rushed forward to help his father from his wet layers. “Danny! Get Dad a blanket too!” Danny came rushing out as he was peeling off his father’s coat. He handed one quilt to Mr. Argent, and then wrapped the shivering sheriff in the other. While Stiles dragged his father into the bedroom to get him out of the rest of his soaked clothes, Danny pushed the armchairs closer to the fire and gestured Mr. Argent into one before fetching him his own bowl of stew and Allison a slice of bread. He had a bowl in hand for the Sheriff when Stiles finally got him into his long-johns and back into the living room. The Sheriff batted him away once he was seated, but took the bowl gratefully from Danny.

 

“Honestly, we wouldn’t have if we’d have been at the jailhouse still,” he finally answered. “But I was about ten minutes from home when the storm started. That was at least a half hour ago. Wouldn’t have even found the house if you hadn’t hung that lantern up.”

 

“I’m glad I did then,” Stiles said with a grin. “Especially since I was expecting you to stay at work tonight. We didn’t think you’d get Phil to go anywhere.”

 

“That’s why I left work early. Figured when the storm hit, Phil wouldn’t care whether it was light or not.” He scooped stew eagerly. “I knew there’d be stew. Had to be home for that.” Stiles laughed and went to get the tea off the stove. “Stiles learned this recipe from his mother, but she never managed to successfully make it. She used to burn it down to the last carrot.”

 

Stiles smiled fondly while Allison laughed. “She was so happy when the batch we made together turned out all right,” he added as he poured out the tea. “I thought she might burst from smiling so much.”

 

“Of course, the next time she decided to make it, Stiles was out playing with the other kids and she burned it again. She decided he would make it from then on,” his father said, nodding. Stiles placed the tea tray on the coffee table and sat cross-legged on the sofa next to Allison. Danny sat on the other side and the boxed her in between their warmth. “She could make just about anything else but never stew. Never did she understand why herself, but I always thought it was because of her need to be so hands on when she cooked.”

 

Stiles nodded his agreement. “Well, other than the stew, she definitely passed her cooking skills on to Stiles,” Allison complimented sincerely. “And if I remember correctly, her generous spirit.”

 

“You’re just saying that so I won’t make you sleep on the coach,” Stiles replied with a laugh.

 

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

 

Allison slept in his father’s bed with her father. The sheriff insisted and slept in Stiles’ small bed instead. Danny and Stiles slept out in front of the fireplace, which proved to be quite nice. Danny offered to take the mat of the floor while Stiles slept on the sofa, which Stiles suspected was less out of generosity and more out of a desire to be closer to the fireplace.

 

Stiles dreamt he was sleeping in Derek’s arms, but awoke to find the warmth was only from the fire and not from being held. He snuggled back down into his blankets sadly and forced himself to go back to sleep; his only comfort the hope that he might dream of Derek again.


	19. The Storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For [arrowofcarnations](http://archiveofourown.org/users/arrowofcarnations/pseuds/arrowofcarnations). I'm so sorry it took so long.

Stiles missed the warmth of the couch the next night, even if it paled in comparison to the warmth found in Derek’s arms. While the morning sun had come with a brief respite, the night brought the storm back and the wind whistled through any crack it could find. Danny had opted for staying another night with them and now slept before the fire on the couch. Stiles, bundled up in five blankets and quilts, hated him.

 

He wondered for possibly the hundredth time what sort of damage the storm would leave behind. He wasn’t looking forward to the repair work and he doubted he would have time to visit the pack if he did end up having to go to HillValley again for supplies. Danny was likely to be at his side anyway. His family had help; they didn’t need his extra hands. Stiles, however, did. His father was always busy after storms, particularly with distraught people looking for their children. They hadn’t had a single missing child in years, however. It was usually just overreacting parents who decided to go to the sheriff instead of asking around to discover which neighbor had sheltered their child. But his father still had to deal with every single one.

 

He reminded himself firmly that not getting any sleep would not make the repair work any easier and burrowed deeper into his blankets.

 

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

 

The wind took off some shutters, half the fence, and a board from one of the porch steps. The chicken coup’s roof had caved in from the snow on top and the wind. “We don’t have the planks or posts for all this,” Danny said after they had surveyed the damage. “Should we head over to HillValley?”

 

Stiles thought for a minute then decided that, unfortunately, it was probably their only option. He didn’t doubt that earlier risers than them had already bought out the general store’s meager supply. “Let’s see how much we need,” he said with a nod. They did keep some spare in the barn, but it was probably not enough for the level of damage done.

 

“Stiles! Danny!” Stiles propped the wood he had in his arms against the wall of the barn and went to wave Allison in. She had a basket of something delicious smelling and was awfully cheerful for the chill in the air. “Working hard?”

 

“Not yet,” Danny replied. “That for us?”

 

“It is indeed,” she replied happily. She lifted the lid and blanket inside so they could see what she had brought; Chicken and dumplings. Stiles hummed happily and his stomach gurgled. “If you can take a break to eat it,” she added.

 

“We’re only seeing how much wood we have. We don’t want to buy more than we need in HillValley later,” Stiles told her as they headed for the house. Danny caught an errant chicken and put it back in the barn before following.

 

“Actually, you know, Mother sent me over with these,” Allison said; while he and Danny washed up to eat, she set the table. “It’s a little bribe. With the house in the state it is, Daddy doesn’t want to leave her alone and he was wondering if you two would pick up the supplies he needs to fix everything. Our farmhand got caught in the storm, so he’s a bit worse for wear and wouldn’t be much good for protecting the farm or Mother.” She dished everything out then went to work making a pot of coffee. “Not that Mother _needs_ protecting. She’s almost better with a gun than Daddy. But it makes him feel better.”

 

“Yeah,” Stiles said understandably around a mouthful of dumplings.

 

“That’s disgusting,” Danny said with a grimace. He had dug into his plate with gusto as well, though he made it look far more dignified that Stiles ever could.

 

Wind whistled through the gaps again. Allison shivered. “God, I hope that storm doesn’t crop up again. You know I ended up crawling into bed with my parents to keep warm?” She paused and fixed them both with a steely gaze. “No one repeats that.”

 

Stiles snorted with laughter. “That’s all right. I almost did the same.”

 

“I haven’t climbed in between them in bed since I was a little girl,” Allison said as she poured the coffee and took a seat. “I wouldn’t have, but Mom came in and asked if I wanted to come sleep on their floor. Daddy’s excellent about keeping the fire going. But when I got in there, Daddy fussed about me sleeping on the floor. You know how he is,” she said flippantly.

 

Stiles did know. Her dad had always been overprotective. He had even taught Allison – against her mother’s wishes and the protocols of society – how to use a bow, a gun, and how to fight hand-to-hand because he was so worried about her safety. Stiles still remembered watching Allison and Danny wrestle out in the Argent’s barn, back when they were still too young to even see over the kitchen table. He had tried but Mr. Argent didn’t seem to think he was an adequate opponent. He dodged too much, apparently.

 

He also worried about her getting sick almost constantly. Stiles understood that, though. People sometimes just didn’t get better. If losing a mother to something he could bounce back from in a week was bad, he couldn’t imagine losing a child. The fact that Allison was the Argent’s one and only child only added to the fear, that he was sure. Mrs. Argent had lost her ability to conceive a few years after Allison was born in a carriage accident. Allison was it for them.

 

He didn’t doubt that Mr. Argent had worried about Allison catching a cold – or worse – from sleeping on the floor the second Mrs. Argent suggested it.

 

“Anyway, you two wouldn’t mind adding a little weight to your load for us, would you?” Allison asked sweetly. “I could even come along, if you needed the extra hand.”

 

“We can manage, but you’re welcome to come along anyway,” Stiles said. She smiled, knowing that meant he would do her favor.

 

“Thank you,” she said, and plopped another scoop of food on his plate. He grinned and shoveled nearly all of it into his mouth.

 

“That’s disgusting,” Danny and Allison both groaned and grimaced.

 

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

 

They took a plate to his dad at work. He looked exhausted already and far too happy to see they had food and coffee. He led them into his little office and dropped into his chair like a sack of potatoes to eat. “I cannot begin to tell you how hungry I am,” he mumbled before digging in.

 

“Thankfully not hungry enough to eat like your son,” Danny said with a huff of laughter. Stiles rolled his eyes and poured his dad a large mug of coffee.

 

“No one’s ever hungry enough to eat like him,” the Sheriff scoffed.

 

“Why are we ganging up on me?” Stiles protested. His father offered a pat on the back to reassure him. Stiles plopped himself into the chair on the other side of his desk and picked up his log book. “Wow. Ten missing children before noon, huh?”

 

“Put it down,” his father ordered firmly. Stiles reluctantly did as told. “Yes, ten missing children before noon. All of whom, it turns out, either couldn’t get back to their house before the storm and took shelter with neighbors or were too scared to try and brave the storm and just hid in shops. No one was actually missing. Per usual.”

 

Stiles chuckled and shook his head. “I really do not get people. Wouldn’t it be easier to look for your kid, rather than coming and telling the sheriff they’re missing?”

 

“Until you have a child, you can’t understand how hard it is to think rationally when they’re missing,” his father told him sternly. “It’s better to ask for help when you’re that panicked.” Stiles nodded understandingly.

 

“I can’t wait to have a child,” Allison sighed suddenly. Stiles turned in his chair to see what had her sounding so wistful. She was standing at the window, watching a couple outside. The mother was cradling their child to her chest while the father stroked the baby’s bonnet covered head and spoke to her with a smile on his face. “Of course, if Mother has her way, I’m not likely to have that sort of family. It’ll likely be keen to raising the baby on my own.”

 

“Don’t give up hope, Allison,” Danny urged. “You won’t even be meeting him for months. You could still find someone else.”

 

Stiles and his father both nodded their agreement, though it occurred to Stiles that his father may not actually know what they were talking about. Allison smiled tensely at them then turned to the window again. She watched the little family while Stiles and Danny talked with his father quietly. Stiles wished her mother could see what the arranged marriage was doing to her. He had never seen her look so sad while looking at a baby.

 

He had to get her together with Scott. But how? The more pressure on him to love Derek, the less sure he was about them. He didn’t know where he was anymore and everyone’s happiness was depending on him. He needed time and a guarantee he was going to have it.

 

And sitting there, watching his father eat and listening to Danny try to distract Allison from her sadness, he knew exactly how he was going to get that guarantee and maybe offer Allison some relief.

 

But until he could get his plan in motion, he was going to have to focus on getting his family home back into shape.

 

 “All right, Danny. We better get going. Coming Ally?” he asked, pushing himself up from his chair. Allison nodded and he went around the desk to hug his father goodbye. “I’ll pick up your dishes on the way home.”

 

“All right. Careful on the road,” the Sheriff replied. “I love you.”

 

“Love you too,” Stiles said as he backed away from the desk before turning to walk out the door. If he stumbled a little on the turn, no one but his father needed to know.

 

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

 

They were caught in the returning storm just outside of Hill Valley. Thankfully, they had enough time to get to the inn’s stables before it picked up and they weren’t able to see the road. The inn had a lantern in every window so they paused to let Allison run inside before driving the sleigh into the barn. The workmen inside shooed them away when they tried to uncouple the horses and told them to go into the inn and warm up. They were more than happy to oblige.

 

They ran across the ice and snow covered ground, slipping and sliding every few steps, until they reached the inn’s porch and climbed the steps. They ran inside and found Allison waiting for them. While she helped Danny out of his nearly frozen gloves, Stiles pulled off his scarf. He shook the moisture from his hair then looked up and across the room. His eyes went wide when he met Lydia’s eyes. She stood up from her seat beside the fireplace and walked over to them.

 

“I’ll help,” she offered sweetly. Allison nodded with a grateful smile. Lydia set about yanking Stiles out of his own winter garments. Stiles tried very hard to meet her eyes while she buzzed around him like a deranged bumblebee. She refused, however, and instead asked, “I take it you're here for supplies?”

 

“Yeah,” Danny replied, nodding. He rubbed his hands together and blew air on them, shivering pathetically all the while. “The storm yesterday did some damage to our farms.”

 

Lydia nodded. “Ours too,” she said. “We lost about half our fence.”

 

“Chicken coup,” Stiles muttered, shaking his head sadly. “Looks like they’re spending another night in the barn.” He looked behind himself at the window and the snow coming down beyond it. It didn’t look like it would be slowing down anytime soon, and even if it did, they weren’t likely to make it home before dark.

 

Lydia followed his gaze and nodded. “I don’t know what is going on with the weather lately. We’ve never had a winter like this before and it’s only November.” She took the soaked gloves and scarves from Allison and carried them to hang on the line strung across the front of the fireplace. The line was already fairly crowded, but she found places for the garments then returned to take their coats and cloaks from Allison. “Go, sit,” she directed firmly. “I’ll hang these up. Go get warm.”

 

“Thank you,” Allison said gratefully for all of them. They hurried to sink to their knees before the fireplace.

 

“Can I get y’all anything specific to eat or drink?” Ms. Dawn asked, coming over to them while they were rubbing their hands together and holding them as close to the fire as they safely could. “Or is anything warm all right?”

 

“Anything warm,” Stiles answered eagerly. She smiled and nodded, then double checked with the other two. They both nodded at her.

 

Allison glanced over at Lydia as Ms. Dawn walked away. “Thank you for your help.” Lydia nodded and smoothed her skirt elegantly. Stiles resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “I didn’t catch your name?”

 

“I didn’t catch yours,” Lydia countered immediately, smirking. “It’s not polite to ask someone’s name without introducing yourself first.”

 

Allison flushed. “Pardon me. My name is Allison. My friends here are Danny and Stiles.”

 

Lydia smiled politely. “My name is Lydia. It’s a pleasure.”

 

Allison smiled widely, showing off her adorable dimples, and nodded. She turned away from the fireplace and tucked her skirt under her to keep it from catching in any soot. “Your dress is beautiful. Was it sewn professionally?”

 

Lydia preened. “No. I did it all myself.” She brushed at her skirt again proudly. “Even the lace hemming.” Allison marveled at said hem and Stiles struggled to keep his exasperation from showing. He wanted to tell Allison to knock it off, that Lydia didn’t need a bigger head on her shoulders than she already had. “Sadly, I have a lot of time on my hands.”

 

“Oh?” Allison questioned.

 

“Yes. Unfortunately, I’ve yet to marry, so I have no husband or children to occupy my time or attention.” Stiles knew that was a jab at him, even if she kept her eyes on her own lap. He also knew she was taking advantage of his inability to fight back.

 

Ms. Dawn brought a tray of stew and warm coffee to them while Lydia showed off her dress to Allison. “I’m sorry we don’t have any tables left,” she said sweetly. “Nearly everyone in town took shelter here when the storm hit.”

 

“That’s fine. I don’t think I’d move away from this fire if you paid me,” Stiles said lightheartedly. “Do you happen to have any pie left though?”

 

She smiled and flushed a bit, obviously pleased that he was asking. “I have three pies in the oven right now. I’ll bring you slices as soon as they’re done.”

 

“Thank you,” Stiles replied, beaming excitedly. “At least something good is coming out of this storm.” She laughed and flushed even more before going back into the kitchen.

 

“We’ll probably have to get rooms too,” Danny reminded him. Stiles nodded as he picked up his coffee mug. “I’m glad we didn’t come unprepared. It wouldn’t have been good if we hadn’t brought the extra money.” Stiles nodded his agreement vigorously.

 

Allison reached for her own mug and bowl and arranged them before her so she could keep talking to Lydia. _Even without her memory, they’re still fast friends,_ Stiles thought to himself.


	20. The Plan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for taking so long to update, everyone. We're both back at school now and my lovely beta is working too. Thank you all for being so patient. Hopefully this chapter will be worth the wait.

After they had their dinner and pie, the storm managed to quiet long enough that they could buy their supplies and to load them into the sleigh. They finished as the sun was setting and the wind was starting to pick up. Allison and Lydia were still talking, though now they were helping Ms. Dawn and her two young ones to tidy up after the many guests, most of who had either rushed home in the calm of the storm or gone ahead to their rooms. Stiles was beginning to wonder where Melissa was. Derek never let Lydia go to town alone, after all. Danny went to locate Mr. Smith, the old man who managed the inn above Ms. Dawn’s little restaurant, while Stiles hung their coats back on the coat rack, then went to see if he could help clean up at all.

 

“Well, no,” Ms. Dawn replied hesitantly, looking around the room thoughtfully. “We seem to have it handled now, sir. But that couple over there hasn’t had their supper yet. Would you mind?” She gestured to a little family sitting on the rug before the fire. Stiles hadn’t seen them when he and Danny went out, so he assumed they had just arrived. But he knew who they were; they were very same couple Allison had watched from the window in his father’s office with their little baby.

 

“Not at all,” he replied cheerfully. He went into the kitchen and easily found what he needed to prepare a tray of warm stew and cups of tea. He carried it out and set the tray on the rug beside them. “Here you are then. Tea’s okay, right?”

 

“Very,” the husband replied sincerely. “Thank you.”

 

Stiles nodded. “You two are from Beacon Hills, aren’t you?” They nodded. “Us too, but I don’t think we’ve ever met.”

 

“We moved there after our wedding,” the young lady replied, bouncing her fussing child gently. “Haven’t had much time to get out and introduce ourselves with the little one.”

 

“Honey, let me have her. You eat,” her husband insisted quietly. She shook her head and rocked with the fussing baby. She looked tired, frazzled even, and Stiles wondered how long the baby had been whining.

 

“Why don’t I take her and give you a break? You can both eat,” he offered, going down on his knees in front of her and holding out his arms. She hesitated for a moment then passed her daughter carefully over to him. The whines started to turn into a full-blown cry, until he started shushing and rocking on his knees with her. She stopped making any sort of unhappy noise to stare at him with wonder. “Aren’t you just the prettiest little girl?” he cooed, smiling. “Pretty, pretty baby!”

 

In a few moments, he had her giggling from tickles to her plump little belly and repeated coos praising her for being adorable and sweet. Allison joined him on the floor and started playing peek-a-boo while he held the baby. Her parents finished their supper and thanked them both for entertaining her. Stiles beamed. “Our pleasure. She’s absolutely adorable.”

 

“Thank you,” her mother replied sincerely. Stiles transferred the baby into her arms once she was on her feet and the little family went up the stairs to their room.

 

Stiles looked at Allison for a moment, then cupped his hands over his eyes and exclaimed, “Peek-a-boo!” playfully. She smiled and rolled her eyes fondly. He grinned. “I want to know what it is about that that makes babies so happy.”

 

“I know,” she agreed, smiling too. She used his shoulders to help herself up from the rug and said, “Do you know what room we’re in?”

 

“Don’t tell me you're staying in the same room as your boys?” Lydia said suddenly, looking completely appalled. She shook her head firmly. “No, absolutely not. You can sleep in with me. My room has two beds. It’s no trouble.” She didn’t give Allison a chance to argue and instead bid the room at general goodnight. “My male companion is in the first room to the right.”

 

Stiles’ heart missed a beat. He knew what she was leaving unspoken. Derek’s here. Derek was the only one other than Boyd who would insist on the room at the top of the stairs and Erica never liked him to go alone with Lydia. Being the first room would insure he could listen for threats even while he slept and intersect them before they could get anywhere near Lydia. The others were usually overconfident enough to believe the room beside Lydia’s would insure they could protect her. Derek and Boyd didn’t take chances.

 

He had to wait until Danny fell asleep, but he eventually managed to make it to that first room. Derek met him at the door before he even knocked, head bowed in the shadows in case someone should pass. Stiles rushed inside and they quickly threw the latch on the door. Derek turned up the lamp on the bedside table so they could see each other better.

 

They met in the middle of the room to embrace each other. After a brief, but tight embrace Derek pushed him back to arm’s length and looked him over. “Are you all right? The weather’s been rough; have you been keeping safe?”

 

“Yeah,” Stiles assured him with a smile. “The barn is a little torn up and we lost the chicken coup. Other than that, I’ve been fine.” Derek smiled and leaned in to kiss his head. Stiles moved in for another embrace. “What about you and the pack? Everything alright?”

 

“Fairly,” Derek replied with a shrug. “We lost some shutters and the outside basement doors as well as most of our fence. The wind took down a tree and just barely missed the barn. The others were supposed to deal with it today, but I doubt they finished up with this weather.” They moved to sit on the bed and held each other with one arm each while the grasped each other’s hands with the other. Stiles rested his head on Derek’s shoulder.

 

“How’s Scott?” he asked quietly.

 

“He misses her,” Derek replied solemnly. “He tries to act like he’s staying positive, but he’s having a rough time.”

 

Stiles nodded. “I’m sure he is,” he replied understandingly. “But, you know, I came up with a little bit of a plan. It’s kind of crazy, but I really think it would work.”

 

“I don’t care how crazy it is,” Derek said, smiling. His red eyes were tender. Stiles felt warm all over just basking in his gaze. Derek kissed his forehead and whispered, “I just want to hear you talk.”

 

Stiles wrapped both arms tightly around Derek’s broad body and hid his face. “What a cliché,” he muttered, even though it was a very nice cliché to hear and he privately shared the sentiment. He had missed hearing Derek talk too.

 

Derek just shrugged, obviously not embarrassed in the least. “So what’s the plan?”

 

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

 

“I still think it’s the craziest idea I’ve ever heard.”

 

Stiles glared at Lydia. “Yes, thank you. That message was firmly conveyed the first twelve times; you don’t have to keep repeating yourself.” He looked at Melissa and Scott sitting on the sofa in front of him. “The only ones who matter are you two. Do you think you could pull it off?”

 

Scott looked doubtful, but Melissa nodded. “It won’t necessarily be easy, but I do think you’re right. I think any mother would be able to recognize their child’s unhappiness and would welcome a solution. It might ease the way a bit with Mrs. Argent. But I worry that this will only upset Allison more.”

 

“Well, I thought about that too, but I think this way she at least has options and she has more time before being married. It’ll give her some control back, and I really think she needs that,” he told her earnestly.

 

“Despite the surface insanity, I do believe this may be a solid plan,” Derek piped up. “Scott is easily an equal opponent against Allison’s current fiancé; I don’t see any reason for Mrs. Argent to turn him away.”

 

“What if the cover story of burns upsets her?” Scott worried. “What if she doesn’t like the idea of Allison marrying someone too mutilated to court her in person? My wealth may not be enough, Stiles.”

 

“It will be,” Stiles assured him. “You get five thousand a year more than him, you have a home less than ten miles away from them, and you want lots of children. Some insecurity about your appearance will mean nothing to Mrs. Argent. And that’s the point, anyway. You’re not horrifically scarred, you’re just painfully insecure about the scars and burns you do have. We’ll go for romantic and tell her that – when you’re beloved cousin Lydia drew her new friend from town – you marveled at her beauty and Lydia’s tale of her sweet spirit and felt horribly inadequate. We’ll say you want to win her favor and prove your worth with your words before trying to gain her love in person.”

 

“That does sound dreadfully romantic,” Lydia admitted. “The sweet, shy prince too afraid to approach the beautiful peasant girl, so he writes her letters and sonnets and leaves them in her garden to be found. She falls madly for his love and doesn’t care for his appearance. Naturally, as in most fairytales, he turns out to be her dream prince with a handsome appearance to match his lovely heart, but she tells him that even if he were an ogre, she would love him still.”

 

“See?” Stiles said, gesturing at the dreamy eyed girl. “It’s a fantastic plan.”

 

“But is it foolproof?” Scott asked, looking more and more worried instead of reassured.

 

“Of course not,” Stiles told him, shaking his head. “There’s no such thing as a foolproof plan. And, you know, if you claim your plan is foolproof, it’ll be doomed to fail. So, let’s just stick with ‘fantastic plan’, okay? And it’ll be even better with good execution.” Scott dropped his head into his hands. Stiles grimaced. “Yeah, that all sounded way more reassuring in my head.”

 

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

 

Stiles timed his visit to the Argent house perfectly. It wasn’t hard. He was due over to deliver some eggs anyway, so he just walked a little slower to the house than he normally would. He managed to arrive so he was on the front porch with Allison when the covered sleigh pulled up. Allison’s face lit up when she saw Lydia stand up. An incredibly bundled up Boyd hopped off the driver’s bench to help her down carefully. He helped Melissa then moved to feed the horses’ sugar cubes and to keep his head bowed.

 

 

“Lydia!” Allison greeted excitedly. She pushed the basket of eggs back into Stiles’ hands thoughtlessly then went running over to greet her new friend. “What’re you doing here?”

 

Lydia smiled and said, “I’m here at my auntie’s insistence, actually.” She gestured to Melissa and Melissa smiled warmly at Allison. “This is my aunt, Melissa McCall. She was hoping to speak to your parents, if they’re in?”

 

“Yes,” Allison replied quickly. “Absolutely. They’re in the lounge. Please, come on in.”

 

Stiles snuck in behind them and leaned on the wall outside the lounge to listen in. After the introductions, Mrs. Argent invited Melissa and Lydia to sit while Allison rushed out to get tea. They argued as quietly as they could about who would get to stay and listen, before Stiles conceded with a roll of his eyes and went to fix the tea in her stead.

 

When he got back, she gave him a whispered update. “Nothing yet. Just small talk. Mrs. McCall wanted to wait until I got back.”

 

She took the tray and went in. He pressed his ear to the door, careful to keep the rest of his body away so his shadow wouldn’t give him away to Mr. Argent.

 

There was quiet conversation while they served the tea, then Mrs. McCall said, “All right. I suppose I can’t delay any longer.” Stiles crossed his fingers. “I’m here to ask about opening a line of conversation between your daughter and my son in hopes of maybe arranging a marriage in the future.”

 

“Allison is already engaged,” Mrs. Argent replied sternly. “To a man with ten thousand a year. Please, do not take offense, but I doubt your son could compete.”

 

“When his step-father passed away, my son inherited his entire estate, including an annual income of fifteen thousand and a home with multiple acres around it,” Melissa replied calmly. Stiles heard the clasp on her handbag click, then she said, “This is the most recent photo I have, I’m afraid. It’s from six years ago.”

 

“He’s certainly an attractive boy,” Mrs. Argent said very quietly. Stiles wished he could see her shocked expression.

 

“May I?” Allison asked. Stiles heard her mutter a thank you. “Great eyes. They look sweet.”

 

Stiles smiled to himself. He had seen the picture when he went to talk to them about his plan. In it, Scott and Melissa stood in front of the fireplace in the lounge of the Hale mansion with their wedding clothes on and Melissa’s arm linked with Scott’s. They looked lovely. Scott looked sweet and youthful, with a smile on his face even though the picture must have taken a while to take.

 

“Lydia is a bit of a budding artist,” Melissa told her gently, “And she likes to draw her friends. She was so impressed with your beauty; she went ahead and painted you. My son saw the painting and couldn’t help but be enamored.”

 

Stiles could just see Allison flushing with the softest of smiles. “What’s his name?”

 

“Oh, pardon me,” Melissa said apologetically. “His name is Scott. Scott McCall.”

 

“Scott,” Allison repeated. “He would certainly contribute to creating beautiful children.” Stiles heard a floor board creak and wondered if it was her leaning forward to hand the photograph back to Melissa.

 

“Oh, definitely. Your children would be just gorgeous,” Lydia agreed. “And I know for a fact that he wants more than one. He’s very eager to be a father, though not eager enough to marry someone he doesn’t love.”

 

“So you’re proposing a courtship, essentially?” Mr. Argent surmised.

 

“Essentially, yes. Through letters,” Melissa replied. Stiles could see her nodding in his head.

 

“Why letters?” Mrs. Argent asked. “Why can’t they follow the traditional route? You live close enough, don’t you?” Stiles’ fingers tightened in their crossed position.

 

“Well, yes. Not more than a day away,” Melissa admitted. “But the circumstances surrounding my son are complicated.” Stiles heard her skirts shift and imagined she was adjusting her seating position nervously. He pleaded mentally with the universe for everything to go well. “Not long after I remarried, there was a fire in our barn. Scott attempted to save the horses and was trapped instead.  Though he managed to escape, he was burning severely.”

 

“His appearance is unsettling?” Mr. Argent surmised again.

 

“No, not at all. He made a full recovery and was treated by some of the best doctors in the country, so there aren’t any scars or disfigurations. However, his recovery did take time and I’m afraid it took a toll on him mentally,” Melissa explained timidly. “He currently suffers from the delusion that he is scarred and disfigured. He’s seeing a doctor, but the delusion is deeply seated. Treatment is a slow and painstaking process.”

 

“You want our daughter to engage in a courtship with a delusional man?” Mrs. Argent asked, starting to take on an unhappy tone again.

 

“Please, his only delusion is towards his physical appearance. Elsewhere, he’s a fine young man,” Melissa told her quickly. “He fears he would frighten people, should he leave the house. It’s truly amazing that he asked us to establish contact with Allison; he is so afraid of what people might think. His doctor and I both believe that, should he fall into love with Allison and her with him, she would have the power to break the delusion. She could cure him, essentially.”

 

“We’re not just asking for a courtship,” Lydia chimed in. “We’re asking for help.”

 

There was silence. Then, after a few long moments, Allison declared, “I want to do it,” boldly.

 

“And if you do not connect with him? If you break off your engagement to Matthew and nothing happens with Scott? What will you do then? Allison, do you realize how hard it was to find a suitable gentleman that had any of the qualities you appreciate?” Mrs. Argent replied. She sounded concerned.

 

Allison did not. Her voice grew firm. “If there’s no future with Scott, I will let you find me anyone you wish, no objections. But if you do not let me at least try, then you will have to drag me to the wedding alter kicking and screaming. I will resist even more.”

 

“Allison,” her mother hissed warningly.

 

“No, Mother,” Allison snapped back. “I haven’t had a single choice in this before. You won’t take this one away. This is a chance at love! At a devoted father for my future children! Would you deny me that?”

 

Again, silence followed. Mrs. Argent spoke solemnly to break it. “No, Allison. I could never deny you that.”

 

Mr. Argent gave Allison a gentle order. “Go write him your first letter,” he commanded. “That way Mrs. McCall can take it home with her.”

 

Stiles smiled to himself and rushed outside to privately cheer and dance. It had worked! They had time now! Allison and Scott had time to fall in love with each other and he had the pressure off his shoulders to fall in love with Derek. The only weight left on his shoulders came from Lydia, and she could talk about leaving to find another all she wanted, but her heart belonged to Jackson and she would never want another man’s child while he lived.

 

He had time now. He could finally relax and focus on developing his feelings into love. He ran to Je and mounted her quickly. He wanted to see Derek. He wanted to tell the pack the good news.


	21. The Courtship

Stiles rode Je hard but his loyal old girl didn’t even sputter angrily when they finally came to a stop in front of the mansion. He dismounted and promised her a large, juicy apple before she would have to carry him home. Scott came running out, barefoot in trousers and a shirt. He didn’t even have a coat on.

 

“Good news then?” he asked excitedly. Stiles nodded and Scott let out a loud whoop. He punched the air and looked like he might burst with delight.

 

Derek came out behind him with a plump red apple in his hands. He fed it to Je and looked at Stiles with a smile. “Just when I think you can’t amaze me more,” he murmured lovingly. Stiles wrapped his arms around his neck and held tight. Derek held him back. “Are you relieved?”

 

“So relieved,” Stiles replied earnestly. He pressed his lips to Derek’s neck and sighed happily. “And you’re so warm.” Derek’s body heat always wrapped around him like a warm blanket, and in the bitter cold he was like a flame. Stiles relished every second spent in his arms and loathed every second away from him. “I’m just so happy for them both. She’s so excited. You should have heard her. She snapped at her mother when she tried to say anything against it. I know they’re going to fall in love. I just know it.”

 

Derek’s fangs were a little cold on his skin when he pressed his own lips to Stiles’ jaw. “I’m glad it all worked out.”

 

“Should I write another letter now?” Scott asked suddenly. He had stopped running around excitedly and looked at them now like an eager puppy waiting for table scraps.

 

“No, Allison’s writing one now,” Stiles replied, smiling. “You can write your next one when you get hers.”

 

“Did she read mine? Did she like it?” Scott asked, moving towards him with wide, joyful eyes.

 

“I don’t know. I didn’t stick around to find out. I wanted to tell you guys the good news.” Scott nodded his understanding before suddenly shivering and dashing inside. Stiles laughed. He looked at Derek again. “Definitely right hand man material right there.”

 

Derek laughed.

 

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

 

Allison spent most of her days waiting for Scott’s next letter. As far as Stiles knew, they were writing each other every day. Allison would meet Lydia up at the end of town’s main road – where it met the road between towns – and give Lydia her response. The next day, Lydia would deliver a new letter for Allison in the morning. Sometimes they would have tea before Lydia left and Allison would write her reply so Lydia could take it home with her.

 

When Stiles did see her, she generally spent most of their time together talking about Scott; Scott and Lydia, and how much she was enjoying the courtship. Her relationship with her mother was also an occasional topic, since it was on the upswing now. The tension from Allison’s unwanted engagement was gone and they were getting along much better.

 

Stiles loved seeing her so happy.

 

He and the pack started communicating through letters as well. Boyd would deliver them while the girls had tea or leave them in a hole in a tree for Stiles to find later when they met Allison at the junction. Derek and his letters weren’t as romantic or personal as Scott and Allison’s, but they did have great conversations. They talked about memories from childhood, about different things they were doing to occupy themselves while the snow made outside work near impossible, and about what they wanted for their futures. It felt like courting, even if it wasn’t necessary between them.

 

They knew each other so well and connected so deeply, they didn’t need to go through the process that Scott and Allison were. The only thing that wasn’t known between them was Stiles’ feelings. And he was slowly beginning to figure them out now that the pressure was gone from his shoulders. The future looked so bright.

 

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

 

Allison showed up at his door in a panic. She practically shoved passed him when he opened it, just to get inside. “Mother wants a wedding in six months.”

 

Stiles’ stomach churned. “Six months?” he replied, surprised and concerned immediately. “What happened to you having all the time you need?”

 

“Oh, I still have it. She just wants us to “aim for six months, please,” since “I’m not getting any younger and who knows if another girl might come along and snatch him up”. And anyway, “We have such a great connection! Six months shouldn’t be a problem”! She’s so pushy!” Allison complained angrily.

 

“Well, don’t let her be,” Stiles told her. “Stand firm. You were told you had as much time as you’d need and she should keep her promise. And show some trust for Scott, too. He’s said he wants this to work, she should trust that he means it and he won’t go looking for someone else.”

 

Allison paused in her pacing and looked at him. “You’re right. She gave me her word,” she agreed, suddenly looking determined and stern. “She promised I’d have time and she’s going to keep her promise.”

 

And as suddenly as she had arrived, she was out the door and gone. Stiles smiled proudly and went back to making lunch for his father.

 

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

 

Stiles was delivering eggs again to Allison’s house. He drew close as Lydia’s sleigh pulled away. They waved to each other and he smiled cheerfully. Allison’s father and one of their farmhands were watching them go by the front gate when he reached it. Stiles bid them hello as he dismounted from Je and went to take the basket of eggs to Allison.

 

He reached the porch and held the basket up to Allison without climbing the steps. “I can’t stay. Je needs re-shoeing today and I need to get home. How’s your day? How’s Lydia?”

 

“Where’s Marcel going, Daddy?” Allison asked, not looking at him. Stiles turned his head to see the farmhand mounting one of Mr. Argent’s horses and following the tracks from the sleigh. His eyes widened and his heart raced. He needed to follow him. What if he was truly tracking the sleigh? What if Boyd didn’t notice? What if the farmhand saw the house and the others and told Argent?

 

He needed to go, but he couldn’t just dash off without giving himself away.

 

Stiles looked at Allison and found her frowning at her father still. "Daddy, please, don't. Call him back. We can't violate their trust like this."

 

"Go inside, Allison," her father replied sternly.

 

He walked to their barn and Allison looked at Stiles. "Could you go stop him? I can't leave. Daddy will know."

 

Stiles nodded. She looked so grateful, he almost felt bad for having ulterior motives. He ran out of the yard and pulled himself up onto Je’s saddle. He caught up to Marcel at a gallop. Marcel turned his head when he heard him approaching. Stiles pulled Je to a stop right in front of Marcel’s horse. He had never seen the good-natured farmhand look so angry.

 

“Sorry, Marcel,” he said quickly. “But do you have time to help me re-shoe Je today? She needs it, seriously, and Danny can’t help me out today. She’s a skittish old girl. I need someone to help me keep her calm. I know Mr. Argent’s probably got plenty for you to do today, but I really need the help. Allison said you're great at re-shoeing their horses. So if you wouldn’t mind, could you come with me real quick and get it done?”

 

Marcel had never responded well to Stiles’ over-excited chatter and always looked overwhelmed when Stiles got started. This time was no different and he sat there, blinking at Stiles in shock for a long moment. Stiles grinned and pretended to take his silence for a yes. “Thank you!”

 

He grabbed Marcel’s horse’s lead from off his shoehorn and turned towards home.

 

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

 

Allison came over while he was finishing making dinner. She had the basket he had delivered the eggs in and a beautiful smile on her face. “Thank you so much, Stiles. I don’t know how you did it, but thank you.”

 

“It was easy,” Stiles told her, chuckling. He continued chopping carrots while he spoke. “I just did what I do best. Talked.” He laughed again as he shifted the carrots into the pot. “Poor guy didn’t know what hit him. One second he’s following a sleigh, the next he’s in my barn.”

 

“That’s what he said when Daddy asked what happened,” she told him, giggling. She put the basket on the table and removed her shawl. “Anyway, I made you a pie as thanks. I know you were in a hurry to get Je’s horseshoes done, so I appreciate it.”

 

“Hmm, pie,” Stiles said, peeking inside the basket it at it. “Yummy yum.” Allison smiled and rolled her eyes fondly. “But, honestly, it wasn’t a big deal. It went faster with Marcel’s help.”

 

He took the pie out of the basket and put it on the table. He knelt down to get the oven going to warm it while Allison went and hung her shawl and bonnet on the coat stand. She started to help chop and add the vegetables to the stew on the stove and they talked while they worked.

 

She ended up staying for dinner and Stiles enjoyed having her all to himself for this first time in a while.

 

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

 

The incident with Marcel was only the beginning. After Stiles managed to intercept him, Mr. Argent started what seemed to be a highly motivated plot to track the sleigh back to the house. Allison recruited a very willing Stiles and a mildly confused Danny to help her sabotage each of her father’s attempts.

 

Stiles told Boyd what was going on and the beta assured him they had everything covered. The house’s protection spells had been upgraded and the pack hid themselves in the woods to make sure the sleigh made it home without any unwanted tagalongs. Still, he passed on the pack’s appreciation for the help in intercepting Mr. Argent’s efforts.

 

Stiles felt a little calmer knowing the pack was aware of Mr. Argent’s plotting. He knew they would still have to stop Mr. Argent’s attempts just because Allison didn’t know the pack had their own plan, but he enjoyed knowing that, should they fail, the pack was prepared.

 

Now if he could just figure out how his chickens kept getting out of the coup, everything would be great.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot to tell you guys, but if you have a tumblr and like this story, you should track the tag [stilesandthebeasts](http://www.tumblr.com/tagged/stilesandthebeasts/) because it's my tag for this story, and anything and everything to do with this story goes there. Whether it be delays for updates, hopes for getting the next chapter done, whining because I can't think of anything, or actual confirmed times for when to expect the next chapter. And you guys are welcome to post in the tag too! I'd love to see whatever you wanna put there! Even if you're pissed cause we're taking forever!
> 
> Thanks and I hope you like the story!
> 
> P.S. This also good for anyone without a AO3 account because I share the story and tag it stilesandthebeasts every time we update!


	22. The Seen

Stiles was knitting a new set of gloves and a matching scarf for Allison’s Christmas present. Typically, he didn’t have to start making gifts before December had even come around, but he had so many people to make gifts for now, he wanted to make sure he gave himself enough time. Stilinski family tradition meant his gifts would be handmade, and he needed time for everything.

 

He wanted to make Erica gloves and a scarf too, a spring hat for Lydia, a warm sweater for Danny, Scott, and Isaac, and gardening gloves for Boyd. He planned to make a new apron for Melissa – since the one she had at present was stained and patched but she claimed was too fine to let go of – and make a new coat for his father. He wasn’t sure what he would make for Derek yet; he wanted it to be something special though.

 

His father was home for lunch and to help move the chicken coup into the barn. Another storm was rolling in and they couldn’t afford to lose the coup again. Stiles had removed the chickens and the hay from inside to lighten it before his father arrived. Moving the coup together had been quick and painless. His father was now eating his pulled pork sandwich at the well-loved table.

 

A knock on the door had Stiles putting his knitting down and standing up from his spot before the fire. His father took a final bite of his lunch and stood up. Stiles pulled open the door, fully expecting Danny to be on the other side, but found Lydia standing on the porch instead.

 

“Hi,” he said, surprised. “I wasn’t expecting you today.”

 

She stepped over the threshold and smiled at him. “I know, but I wasn’t sure when I’d see you again. I don’t know how long this storm is going to last, so I figured I should say hello before it hit.”

 

“Well, thank you for thinking of us,” Stiles said, grinning at her. “Yeah, those clouds are getting pretty ominous. I’m hoping it won’t last very long, but that doesn’t seem to be our luck lately.” Lydia nodded. She greeted his father with a smile and he looked out the door at Boyd waiting by the road. He waved and saw Boyd nod his head back. Stiles knew Boyd wouldn’t come in, so he shut the door.

 

“I can’t stay long,” Lydia told him firmly.

 

“Can you stay long enough for a cup of tea?” Stiles asked politely.

 

She thought for a moment, glancing out the window at Boyd quickly before nodding. Stiles went to heat the kettle. His dad went to get his hat and holster from the coat rack. “Damn, son, you’re supposed to take her coat first,” he chastised as he helped Lydia out of her shawl.

 

She smiled and said, “Thank you, Mr. Stilinski. It’s a pity your son is only half the gentleman you are.”

 

His father chuckled and put his hat on to tip it. “Don’t forget to shut everything up, Stiles.”

 

“Yes, sir,” Stiles agreed, waving him out the door. “Go before you get caught in it.”

 

The Sheriff shook his head in exasperation. As soon as the door closed behind him, Lydia looked over at him and said, “You have a seriously sexy dad.”

 

“Lydia!” Stiles objected, scandalized.

 

“Seriously. Must be something in the water here. Allison’s dad’s easy on the eyes, yours is fantastic, Danny’s gorgeous, and just about everyone else is just...wonderful to look at. It’s got to be something in the water,” she told him, uncaring for the trauma she was inflicting on him.

 

Boyd came in and shut the door firmly behind him. He went and closed the shutters and curtains before he unwrapped his scarf from his head. Lydia slid the heavy lock on the door into place. “Don’t forget,” Boyd said when he uncovered his mouth, “that Erica and I are from Beacon too.”

 

She grinned. “Well, Erica isn’t that pretty, but you, I can see.”

 

“Erica’s werewolf face is much better than mine,” Boyd argued calmly. “Her human one too.” Stiles smiled as he took cups and saucers from the cabinet.

 

“Is Danny coming by for dinner?” Lydia asked. She lifted herself up onto the table and crossed her legs primly. He glanced back at her and huffed out a laugh. If he and Boyd weren’t pack, she would never sit anywhere but on the chair with her legs crossed and her hands folded neatly in her lap. He wished his father could see her sitting up there, leaning back on her ungloved hands casually. He wouldn’t see her as such a lady then.

 

“He didn’t say, but I know by now to expect him anyway. If he hasn’t been commandeered by Mr. Argent to help shut everything up over there, that is,” he told her, pushing a plate of cookies onto the table. “I’ve got some pork left, if you two want sandwiches before you have to go.”

 

Lydia shook her head, but Boyd eagerly went to help himself to whatever was left of the meat. Stiles sat down and waited for the kettle. Lydia sat up and leaned forward. “The pack misses you.”

 

“I write everyone almost every day!” he said, grinning. It was nice to hear that, even if it seemed silly.

 

“Every other day,” she reminded him, smiling right back. “But that doesn’t mean they don’t want to see your face sometimes. When do you think you’ll be able to visit next?”

 

“I’m not sure,” he admitted honestly. “I have to do some Christmas shopping soon, but have nothing else coming up as an excuse to leave town. And Mr. Argent has been keeping a particularly close eye on me, so I need a good excuse before I can do anything. And Allison will probably want to tag along when I do go shopping.”

 

He had been dwelling on the same problem for days and talking about it only brought the stress straight to the surface. He ran a hand through his hair in frustration and sighed. “I want to see everyone. I just can’t figure out how to.”

 

Lydia put her hand over his. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll think of something,” she assured him. He grinned up at her and leaned back on her arms again. “Maybe we’ll let Mr. Argent’s dogs out or something.”

 

“That’s a bit obvious, isn’t it?” Boyd said, dropping into a chair to eat his sandwich.

 

The kettle whistled finally and Stiles stood up to make the tea. “Yeah,” he agreed. “And they’re pretty well trained. We’d probably have to lure them out with meat, not just unlocking the gate or something. That’s definitely a giveaway.”

 

“What about if you fake sick?” she suggested. “Tell Allison that you’re ill then he’ll think he doesn’t have to watch you that closely.” She shook her own head before they could disagree and said, “No, he’s too smart for that. He’d watch you even closer.” She sighed. “Give me a minute.”

 

Stiles smiled. She would figure it out. She was too smart not to.

 

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

 

By the time they had finished their tea and food, Lydia had formulated a plan. It wasn’t airtight, because, in her words, no one could fully predict the actions of others, but it was a plan. She stood up as Boyd took his last sip of tea and went to the coat rack. “We’d better head out,” she said with a sigh. She tossed Boyd his scarf and opened the door. Boyd scrambled to cover his face and ears while she peeked out. “It’s starting to snow.”

 

Boyd wrapped the scarf tightly around his head while Stiles joined her at the door. “Do you think you can make it home before it starts coming down harder?”

 

“Cam won’t enjoy it, but we should be able to,” Boyd said, his voice muffled by the scarf.

 

“Poor Cam,” Stiles said sympathetically.

 

“She’s fine,” Boyd said, huffing. “She’s as tough and as stubborn as Derek, not to mention as loyal. She knows that if we’re pushing her, it’s for a reason.” He pulled on his gloves and jacket, and headed out the door. “Thank you for the food, Stiles. Lydia, I’m going to double check the harness.”

 

Lydia waved him off as she pulled on her hat and gloves. “It can’t be called double checking anymore.” Boyd ignored her. She pulled on her coat with Stiles’ help and said, “He checks it every time we stop and every time we start.”

 

“Be reassured instead of annoyed,” he told her, smiling as he fixed the back of her collar. “He’s a good protector.”

 

“I don’t need protecting,” she said with a huff. She moved away from him to pick up her scarf. “You forget,” she turned her head to smirk at him, “I carry a gun.” She threw the end of her scarf over her shoulder and he flinched back when it smacked him across the face. “And I’ve gotten pretty good with it.”

 

“You could probably kill someone with a scarf too,” he told her, backing away and wiping at his lips for any bits of fluff that might have come off the scarf when it hit him.

 

She laughed at him.

 

Suddenly, Boyd was beside them, just inside the doorway. He growled, “We have a problem,” and grabbed the doorframe tightly. “Bolt this door behind me and stay put. Got your gun?” Lydia nodded along with Stiles. “I’ll be right back.”

 

He leapt off the porch and hit the ground running. Lydia pushed Stiles to the side and slammed the door shut as soon as he was out of the way. She threw the bolt and they quickly divided to check the locks on the windows. “What the hell is going on?” she asked when they regrouped in front of the door.

 

“I don’t know,” Stiles replied, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. He wanted to open a window and peek out but he knew better. They had to stay and wait for Boyd.

 

They didn’t have to wait long. No more than five minutes, Boyd came back. He called through the door for Lydia to open it and when he got inside, he was absolutely covered in snow, even though there wasn’t more than a thin layer on the ground from a light snow during the night. Stiles knew why. He had seen the pack run around the back garden on all fours the way he suspected Boyd had just been doing, almost like gorillas. He had laughed and laughed until finally, Scott had gotten embarrassed enough to tell him to stop. He and Isaac had given Stiles a five minute lecture about why that style was faster.

 

When Boyd got back, he locked the door behind himself and pulled down his scarf with snow coated gloves. “One of Argent’s men saw me,” he told them, panting. “Before I had the scarf on, he saw my face. Lydia, stay the night with Stiles. I’m going to run home and warn the pack. I’ll come back for you.”

 

“Should I follow and erase your tracks?” Stiles asked, following him to the door.

 

Boyd shook his head as he yanked the scarf back up. “No, I’ll do it as I go.”

 

Stiles locked the door behind him again then turned to look at Lydia. She looked horrified, eyes wide and full of tears already. He started towards her to offer comfort, but she took a step away and the tears slid down her face. “It’s my fault,” she whispered. “I opened the door.”

 

“Lydia, it’s not your fault. We didn’t know anyone was out there,” he told her firmly. “Don’t blame yourself.”

 

“I opened the door!” she repeated, wiping at her eyes roughly. “I opened it before he had the scarf on. I was careless and now everyone I love is in danger. So don’t tell me not to blame myself.” She ripped off her gloves and chucked them onto the table. “It’s my fault.”

 

“Fine, it’s your fault,” he snapped, getting angry as well. She looked appalled that he had admitted it. “It’s your fault someone saw him, but the pack isn’t in danger, Lydia. The pack is only in danger if Argent can prove they’ve hurt a human. And they haven’t, so don’t panic.”

 

“The Argents have gone against the code in the past,” she countered. “Who’s to say they won’t now? My pack is in danger, Stiles, so I’m going to panic. You can’t understand because they’re not your pack. They’re –”

 

“They ARE my pack!” he yelled. She jumped. He had never raised his voice to her before. He glared at her with no regret for yelling. “They’re my pack too, so don’t you dare tell me I don’t understand! Every last one of them is important to me and I can’t stand the idea of them being in danger! I’m scared, okay? I’m scared too! But they haven’t hurt anyone! And I can’t stand here and panic when we don’t have any guarantee the Argents will disregard their code.”

 

A knock on the door kept either of them from carrying on. They froze, swallowed, and looked at the door fearfully.

 

“Open the door, Stiles,” Mr. Argent called through.

 

Stiles looked back at Lydia. She clutched her handbag to her stomach and slowly nodded. He walked to the door with his heart beating in his ears and lifted the latch. Mr. Argent stood on his porch with two of his farmhands at his side. They both had guns on their hips. Mr. Argent had one strapped to his thigh under his coat. Stiles tried to remember which gun was loaded and where it was located.

 

“Can we come in?” Mr. Argent asked, smiling in a way that Stiles would have thought to be nonthreatening, if not for the guns. He didn’t wait for Stiles to answer, just stepped through the doorway into Stiles’ personal space and kept walking, forcing Stiles to back up or fall over. His companions followed. They shut the door behind themselves. “It’s really shaping up to be a bad night. You should be getting home soon, Lydia. Where’s your driver?”

 

She didn’t answer, just stood and watched him. He didn’t seem to expect her to answer anyway.

 

“Let me guess,” he offered, looking from Stiles’ eyes to Lydia. Stiles kept his eyes fixed resolutely to Mr. Argent. “He went home to warn the rest of the pack.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Terribly sorry for the lack of update last weekend, guys. I had a family trip and no time to write. But I hope you all liked it and that, maybe, it was worth the wait. More VERY soon!


	23. The Reunion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As an apology for not updating last weekend, please enjoy this new chapter.

Stiles clenched his jaw. He saw Lydia steeling herself out of the corner of his eyes. Mr. Argent smiled and he was sure everyone saw the malice in it. “Let’s save everyone some trouble here, shall we? It’s hard to track werewolves during a snow storm. Where’s the pack located?”

 

“You really think we’d tell you?” Stiles said, huffing out a laugh in surprise.

 

Mr. Argent’s smile faltered for just a moment before he looked at Stiles again. Before Stiles could react, Mr. Argent had a hold of his collar. He found himself slammed into the wall with Mr. Argent looming over him. “I asked once, but I won’t do it again. Tell me where the pack is now, or I’m going to make you tell me.”

 

“What are you going to do to us?” Stiles asked, glaring up at Mr. Argent fiercely. “Torture us? What happened to your code?” Mr. Argent’s grip on his collar grew tighter, but before he could say anything, Stiles spat, “Or maybe my alpha was wrong. Maybe you’re just like your sister.”

 

He seemed surprised Stiles even knew about her, and his grip slackened because of it. Stiles clenched his jaw even tighter. “How about it? Are you the type of hunter who follows the code or the type who locks a pack in their barn and burns it down around them?”

 

He shoved Mr. Argent away and dropped back onto his feet. “Take your pick, but if you chose not to follow the code, the pack will follow theirs.”

 

Argent’s harsh gaze turned into a full blown glare. “And what exactly is their code?”

 

“We’re a pack,” he reminded him, smirking. “We protect each other. And if we can’t – if it’s too late, to protect each other – then we get revenge.” He wasn’t afraid, not even when Mr. Argent’s hand twitched towards his gun. He just kept right on smirking. “It’s not as poetic as yours, but it’s just as honored by our pack as I hope yours is to you.”

 

At that, Argent actually looked impressed. He smiled and backed off just a little. “We honor our code,” he told him. “We honor it and we live by it.” Stiles moved to Lydia’s side; Mr. Argent let him. “I know your pack had something to do with Allison’s disappearance. I recognize Druid magic when I see it. Whatever you gave her was strong, so there must have been something pretty bad to hide. Whatever your pack did to her, we’re going to make them pay.”

 

He steeled his gaze again. “I almost can’t believe her friend had a part in whatever it was.”

 

Stiles glared at him again. “We didn’t do anything to her,” he snapped. “The only reason she took it was because we had to hide the location of the pack.”

 

“You think I’d buy that?” Mr. Argent snapped right back. “I don’t know your pack and I certainly don’t know what they’re like, but I sincerely doubt they treat someone outside their pack with any sort of care or respect. Most don’t.”

 

“Don’t generalize our pack,” Lydia chimed in angrily. “You don’t know anything about us.”

 

“Then let me find out,” he said, smirking maliciously. “Take me to meet them.”

 

“No,” they both replied firmly.

 

Stiles picked up his grandfather’s revolver that was displayed on the wall. He spun the chamber and prayed this was the right one. “Now, since we’re obviously not going to resolve this, I’m going to ask you to leave,” he said. He pointed the gun directly at his best friend’s father’s head and pulled the hammer back. “You had better get off my property, Mr. Argent, because I would be well within my rights to shoot you if you don’t.”

 

“However, shoot either of us and you’re probably going to spend a few years in jail,” Lydia added, pulling out her own little pearl handled revolver from her handbag. She didn’t lift it, just popped out the chamber to check the bullets.

 

Mr. Argent chuckled and nodded. “You’re right,” he said calmly. “We’re the intruders here.” He leaned forward toward Stiles again though. “But from now on, so are you. The second either of you step foot on my property, I’ll set the dogs on you.”

 

And with that, he left.

 

Lydia and Stiles didn’t loosen their hold on their guns or breathe until they had watched him go down the road. Then they both dropped into chairs at the table and sighed in relief. Lydia shook her head, overwhelmed and exhausted. “How the hell am I going to get home? You know he’s going to be watching.”

 

She put her head in her hands. Stiles slouched in his chair and thought. There was no way she could take the sleigh home without leaving tracks behind that would lead the hunters straight back to the pack. And leaving the sleigh behind wasn’t an option, especially since Cam was the one pulling it. She was Derek’s horse and he loved her.

 

He sat up and said, “I’m going to put Cam in the barn,” hurriedly. “Poor thing’s been standing out there forever now.”

 

Lydia nodded. He heard her bolt the door behind him when he left. He guided Cam off the side of the road over to the barn and unhooked the sleigh from her harness outside the barn. When he had her inside, he removed her harness and guided her into a stall. He made sure she had hay, oats, and water and threw a dry blanket over her. He gave her a lot of petting and praised her for her patience.

 

He was still petting her when Boyd returned. He came into the barn and said, “Let’s move the sleigh inside. I’m going to have to leave it here for now,” without bothering to greet him.

 

Stiles nodded his understanding. He gave Cam one last loving pat then followed him out. They pushed the sleigh inside the barn and locked it up then hurried back inside. Stiles turned to shut the door behind himself and Boyd and when he turned around, he froze in surprise.

 

Sitting on the sofa holding a silently crying Lydia, was the man he hadn’t seen in nearly a full month. Derek Hale. His heart clenched up at the sight of him. Derek lifted his head to meet his eyes and smiled brightly. Stiles started to go to him, but Boyd cut across his path and made him stop. He watched Boyd go to Derek and ease Lydia from his arms. Derek stood up so Boyd could take his place on the sofa.

 

He met Derek in the middle of the room to embrace. They kissed so deeply, so intimately, it made Stiles weak in the knees. For the first time, their lack of care led to a cut on his lip from Derek’s fangs. Before Derek could pull back and apologize, Stiles grabbed onto his hair and kept him close.

 

“That is starting to get uncomfortable,” Lydia said, sniffling.

 

Stiles pulled back from Derek just long enough to say, “Then don’t watch.” Derek laughed against his lips.

 

“I knew I should’ve brought Isaac,” Boyd muttered irritably. When that failed to get a response from either of them, he said, “Can you at least wait until we leave?” loudly.

 

Stiles pulled back quickly and said, “Leave?” curiously. “Who’s leaving?”

 

“Lydia and I,” Boyd said, while Derek dragged his nose across Stiles’ clavicle. Being wrapped up in Derek’s arms felt like bliss after so long. He wanted to stay there for hours, if not forever. “I’m going to carry her home through the woods before the storm hits. Derek’s going to come home with the sleigh when it’s at full strength.”

 

“Poor Cam,” Stiles said sympathetically.

 

“Oh yes,” Derek said, laughing. “Poor Cam. Not poor Derek, even though he has to drive the sleigh in a snow storm while hiding from hunters.”

 

Stiles smiled and ran a hand down the back of his neck affectionately. “Yes, of course poor Derek too,” he assured him. Derek pressed a single kiss to his neck while he chuckled.

 

While Derek continued to hold him tightly, he watched Boyd roll his eyes and looked at Lydia. “Let’s get you bundled up,” he said, wiping one last tear from her cheek. She smiled softly up at him and nodded. Stiles held onto Derek and watched Boyd go to get Lydia’s things and help her into them yet again.

 

Reluctantly, Stiles eased himself away from Derek and went to get a blanket. “I’m assuming you’re going to be moving pretty quickly, so she may need this.” He helped her wrap it around herself and said, “Try not to freeze, okay?”

 

“Boyd runs hot too,” she replied, managing to offer a tiny smile even though she still looked sad. “Just like Derek. So don’t worry. I’ll be fine.” Once she was wrapped up, she slipped her jacket on over the blanket and Stiles handed over her muff and handbag. Boyd took the handbag and slipped it as far into his pocket as possible. “Back or bridal?”

 

“Bridal,” Boyd replied without hesitation. “Isaac and Scott are waiting to offer protection, so I should be fine to hold you.” She nodded and he scooped her up. She pulled the hood of her jacket up and looped her arms around his neck before tucking both of her hands into the muff. Stiles opened the door for him and they were gone in an instant. He shut the door and locked it.

 

Derek had him in his arms a split second later.

 

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

 

They sat on the couch and held each other until the storm was howling outside and the moon was as high in the sky as it could go. Stiles reluctantly let Derek go and longed for him when he had left. He sat on his bed and wished his sense of smell was as good as Derek’s so he could smell him on his clothes even after Derek was gone.

 

He also prayed for everyone’s safe arrival back at the house.

 

But mostly he wished for Derek to be back with him, lying on the sofa together with their arms tightly around one another. He had never felt so alone as he did when Derek first left or when he first had to leave Derek. He couldn’t stand being away from him at first. It always took at least a day for the pain of parting to fade to a dull longing and eagerness to see him.

 

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

 

He woke up on his bed, tangled in his sheets and blankets from tossing and turning all night, to pounding on the front door. He scrambled out of bed as quickly as he could and grabbed his grandfather’s gun before going to the door. He hid the gun behind his back and opened the door just enough to peek out.

 

“Open the door,” Allison demanded angrily. She looked absolutely livid. Stiles opened the door and ushered her inside impatiently. He shut and locked the door behind her. “What the hell is going on?” she snapped as soon as he looked at her again. “My father just ordered me to break off all communication between me and Scott, as well as with you and Lydia. He said you’re not even allowed on our property anymore; that we can’t even talk when we pass on the street. What the hell is going on, Stiles?”

 

“It’s complicated,” he replied, raising his hands in hopes of placating her. She gasped and backed away. He looked down and realized he was still holding the gun. He quickly put it down on the dining table. “Sorry. Look, there’s a lot going on right now and I can’t explain it. But you need to do what your dad says for now, okay?”

 

She started to argue, but he cut her off. “No, Allison. You can’t argue with him or me about this. This is a serious situation and you don’t need to be involved. Neither of us wants you involved. Go home. Listen to your parents. Please,” he pleaded earnestly. “Please, go home.”

 

Allison shook her head, eyes filling with tears. “Why can’t anyone ever let _me_ decide what’s best for me?”

 

Stiles looked down, ashamed, but raised his eyes with determination. He couldn’t waver on this. Getting her involved any more than necessary would only hurt her. “When you don’t know the full situation, you have to let the people who do decide. Now please go home, Allison. Please.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> P.S. FOLLOW THE TAG ON TUMBLR. stilesandthebeasts. It's easy; just one word! If you don't follow it, at least peek in it on the weekends so you can find out what's going on with updates!


	24. The Liar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update guys. "Real life" refuses to allow me the devotion I would like to give this fic.

Allison, of course, did not listen to him or her father. She came to Stiles every day – sometimes twice a day – for a week. She was a determined, stubborn girl and while Stiles used to find that determination endearing, he now found it worrying. What if she pushed her father’s patience too far and got herself into trouble? He didn’t know if they would be able to break her out of the cellar again.

 

Instead, something far more terrifying happened. Her mother came to see him.

 

She showed up on his doorstep, alone and frightening, even though he saw no weapon on her person. Even her husband, standing in his kitchen with a gun and two armed farmhands, wasn’t as frightening as the severe look on her face. She didn’t bother asking to come in, just slipped gracefully around him and started pulling off her gloves. “We obviously need to have a conversation about Allison.”

 

Stiles swallowed and nodded, moving out of the doorway so anyone who peered through could see them. She rolled her eyes when she saw this. “Honestly, you think I’m going to hurt you?” she said with a scoff. “That would upset Allison.”

 

She walked over to his table and looked it over critically as she spoke again. “And I certainly don’t need her to be any more upset with me than she already is.” She finally pulled out a chair and dusted off the cushion before sitting down. Stiles’ weariness started to turn to agitation. He reached full blown anger when she said, “No matter what sort of garbage you’re currently involved with, I have to play nice.”

 

“You’re doing a great job of it,” he sneered. She glared at him, looking more annoyed with him for talking back then for being snide. “What sort of talk should we have, Mrs. Argent? A talk about why you felt the need to forbid Allison from seeing me or speaking to Scott or a talk about why you’ve decided I’m the reason she hasn’t listened?” He shut the door with a slam. She arched an eyebrow at him. He dropped into the seat across from her and said, “Allison is a very independent girl. You’re her mother. You should know by now that she isn’t likely to blindly obey without being given some sort of explanation.”

 

“And what explanation should we give her?” she said, scoffing yet again. “Do you propose we tell her the truth? Tell her that the man she was falling for is a monster and the girl she thought was her friend was luring her into his arms? Or should we start with your blatant betrayal? Should I tell her you sided with the monsters that held her captive and forced her to erase two weeks of her memory with a dangerous potion?”

 

“Maybe you should threaten to lock her in the cellar again!” he growled, standing up and slamming his hands down on the table. “My pack has never hurt Allison! Never! We’ve never done anything with even the potential to harm her!” His chair toppled over from how quickly and violently he had stood. “You, however, haven’t taken a single second to consider her wellbeing in all this! She loves Scott! She loved him when we were with the pack and she loves him after those letters! But you’ve broken her heart and forced her to break off contact! You’re determined to keep her away from her best friend, a potentially good friend! All because of your prejudice!”

 

She stood up and, with a sudden glint of silver, pinned him back to the wall beside the door. She pressed her little dagger into his neck – just lightly enough for him to feel the pressure but not enough to break skin – and hissed, “My only concern is for my daughter! I want this world to be a safe place for her! And if I have to eliminate every monster in existence to make it a safe place, then I will. I’ll destroy any beast that even thinks about approaching her, Stiles, so you had better keep your mongrels at bay. Do you understand me?”

 

“Mrs. Argent?” Stiles turned his head as much as he could to see Danny standing in his doorway, his jaw wide, having dropped in shock. “What the hell are you doing?”

 

Mrs. Argent immediately backed off and started to straighten her gown. She snatched her gloves off the table and said, “I hardly need to explain myself to you,” before striding from the house and across the yard to her horse. After mounting, she called up to Stiles, “Stay away from my daughter, Stilinski. Or else.”

 

She rode away and Danny shut the door firmly. “What the hell was that?” he demanded to know as Stiles finally moved away from the wall and rubbed at his neck.

 

Stiles shook his hand and went to sit on the sofa. “She’s finally snapped,” he said in an attempt to brush the whole thing off. Danny, of course, did not let him.

 

He followed him and said, “You can’t dismiss this, Stiles. Tell me what’s going on.” He moved to stand in front of Stiles and said, “And not just now with Mrs. Argent. What’s going on with everything lately? Allison’s forbidden to speak to almost everyone and all she can tell me is that it has something to do with you. Her whole world is crumbling and no one will tell her why. But you do seem to know.”

 

Stiles sighed and sank into the couch wearily. “The Argents found something out about Scott and Lydia’s family and I and they’ve…reacted the way they deem appropriate.”

 

“You’ve gotten better at avoiding the truth,” Danny told him angrily. “But eventually, you’re going to have to tell me what’s going on.” He shook his head and looked down at Stiles with a disappointed expression. “Why is it even a secret? What could you possibly not be able to tell me?”

 

Stiles looked away, unable to handle his friend’s disappointment in him. “It’s complicated, Danny. I’d tell you if I could,” he assured him honestly. “But I can’t.” He shook his head solemnly. “I can’t tell you anything. It’s too dangerous.”

 

Danny’s frown deepened and became saddened, almost hurt. “I wish you would trust me, Stiles.”

 

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

 

Allison came over and begged him to come with her to her family’s root cellar. He slipped his grandfather’s gun into the space between his pants and his belt and followed her. As they snuck into the cellar through the outside hatch, she whispered, “Do you remember the room that they always locked and forbade us from?”

 

He nodded nervously. She wasn’t planning to break into it, was she?

 

 She led him to the very back of the cellar, moving slowly and carefully and pausing every so often to check that the door up into the house was closed, and that no one was coming down. Stiles wasn’t sure who was more afraid, him or her.

 

She led him to the very back and pulled a key from her coat pocket. “Daddy left it,” she whispered. Stiles looked around the basement nervously while she unlocked the door and gently pushed it open. It creaked and they both froze and looked at the stairs to the house and the outside anxiously. When nothing happened, she whispered, “Come on,” and stepped into the room.

 

Stiles hurried to follow and shut the door behind them.

 

“I don’t suppose you have any idea why my parents have an armory in our cellar?”

 

Stiles looked around the little room in the Argents’ root cellar and shook his head slowly, marveling at the quantity of weapons and ammunition crammed into it. Guns, knives, daggers, and swords were everywhere, taking up all available space. There were trunks along the walls that Stiles didn’t doubt were filled with even deadlier objects. There was trapping equipment among the weapons, all made for far bigger prey than what Mr. Argent claimed to hunt. Looking at the room, he cringed. This was all stuff used to hunt werewolves; used to kill werewolves. It was all stuff that could be used to kill his pack.

 

Allison walked the length of one wall and said, “Look at all this. What could we possible need this for?” She picked up a bullwhip that was hanging on the wall and studied it for a long moment before saying, “What does he need this for?”

 

Stiles knew she didn’t just mean the whip. She looked too overwhelmed and distraught for that. He looked away. “I don’t know, Ally. You’ll have to ask them. I…I just don’t know. This doesn’t have anything to do with why we’re fighting.”

 

His stomach churned at the outright lie. He couldn’t stand lying to her. But what could he say? “Hey, Allison, remember those two weeks you can’t remember? Yeah, that’s because me and my pack of werewolves erased your memories of them and the man you were growing to love. And – here’s the kicker – your parents are werewolf hunters determined to kill your “kidnappers”. Including Scott, who loves you so much, we risked the pack’s safety to keep you from marrying another man.” Yeah, that would definitely go well.

 

Stiles turned to leave, before they were caught or before he had to lie anymore.

 

“I hate when you lie to me,” she told him softly, her voice full or resignation and hurt.

 

He clenched his jaw and fled so he wouldn’t do anything stupid, like tell her the truth just to stop her sadness.

 

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

 

Victoria Argent was on his doorstep again. She had on that deadly calm expression that terrified anyone who saw it and always left him feeling like he needed to hide under his bed. Once more, she forced her way into the house. This time, however, she wasn’t alone. She had both her farmhands with her on the porch. They were all armed and not even bothering to hide it.

 

He didn’t have his gun within reach this time.

 

“You know, Stiles,” she started, walking him back towards the kitchen, “A pack is only strong when it sticks together.” Her lips curled up in what could only be described as an evil smirk. “And you didn’t stay with the pack, did you?

 

The two men at her sides seized him by the arms and lifted him a couple inches off the floor so he couldn’t use his feet to escape. His immediate attempts to wiggle out of their grip seemed to mean nothing to them. Mrs. Argent took a handkerchief and a little glass bottle from her pocket. Stiles threw himself and forth, trying desperately to get free.

 

“Settle down, Stiles. You’ll hurt yourself.” She uncorked the bottle and covered the opening of the bottle with the handkerchief. “There’re far stronger than you.” She chuckled darkly and tipped the bottle upside down so the liquid could seep onto the handkerchief. “Isn’t that funny? Even humans are stronger than you. Tell me, does it bother you that everyone around you is so much stronger?”

 

Stiles stayed silent and continued to thrash.

 

Mrs. Argent approached with the chemical soaked handkerchief. Stiles held his breath. She smirked. “Please, Stiles. Are you truly expecting that to deter me?”

 

Someone slammed their fingers into his gut. He gasped in pain and she shoved the handkerchief to his nose and mouth. He recognized the sickly sweet scent of chloroform before holding his breath again. He tried not to breathe in, but he knew as he began to feel dizzy and his eyes began to droop, that he had.

 

Before he began to lose consciousness, he tried to say, “You won’t find them,” but he wasn’t sure he had managed. That is, until he heard her reply, “We already did.” 


	25. The Fight Begins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for another week without an update, everyone. I'll try to do better next week. Enjoy the new chapter! :)

Stiles awoke with his head pounding and his arms aching. He tried to move and found the ache was caused by the fact that his arms were bound behind his back. The rope was too strong and too firmly tied to wiggle out of. He couldn’t see, so he assumed he was blindfolded. That or he was in a very dark room. However, with some focusing, he could feel the fabric around his head.

 

He squirmed some more and determined that he was lying on a very cold, very hard, stone floor. He also realized his legs were bound together at the ankles, though not as uncomfortably as his arms.

 

He took several long, deep breaths to quell the panic rising in his chest and listened to the area around himself. Nothing. No creaking doors or floorboards, no harsh breathing or quiet whispering. Just absolute silence. He couldn’t even hear the wind outside. Everything was quiet.

 

He swallowed nervously.

 

He had to get free. He couldn’t just lie there while the Argents slaughtered his pack. He twisted and turned his wrists in vain, then started trying to roll onto his back when he failed. Maybe if he could get the blindfold off, he could find something to help with the ropes.

 

He managed to get onto his back and tilted his head up and down like he was nodding, until he felt the knot of the blindfold dig into the back of his head. With that located, he leaned his head fully on it and used the floor to slowly drag it up and off of his head; he blinked to adjust his eyes to being uncovered.

 

The room was dark, but when his eyes finally did adjust, he could see the shapes of boxes and crates and some stairs on the other side of the room. He figured he was in the Argents’ basement.

 

He awkwardly and uncomfortably, pushed himself up into a sitting position. He looked around for anything that might help him. He wondered if he could roll close enough to one of the shelving units, which had jars of preserves on them, to kick a jar off. If he could kick one off, he could use the broken glass to slice the ropes binding his wrists.

 

He located the closest set of shelves and rolled. It was uncomfortable, since his hands dug repeatedly into his back, but he got close enough to then focus on getting his legs close enough to the shelves to swipe jars off the bottom shelf. He flinched as they crashed and broke on the floor. He glanced again at the entrances to the basement fearfully.

 

Again, no one came.

 

He shifted himself over to the pile of glass and preserves and turned around so his back was to the mess. A little fumbling and he managed to pick up a large sliver of glass. He sliced the tip of one finger and hissed in pain. He didn’t, however, allow it to deter him. He focused instead on slowly cutting the ropes binding his wrists.

 

He cut himself twice more before he managed it.

 

He breathed a sigh of relief when he could finally bring his hands around to the front of his body and rub at them. They were sore and bleeding weakly. He dug his handkerchief out and tore it three times, to bandage his wounds. He then cut the ropes on his ankles. He used the barrel closest to himself to pull himself up and support his wobbling legs. He must have been bound for a while, fore his legs felt so pathetically weak.

 

Eventually, he was able to stand on his own. He armed himself with the same piece of glass he used to free his hands and moved up the steps to the outside. He couldn’t stop for more than a couple seconds; he had to get to the pack. He had to be brave and face whatever obstacles the Argents might have left in his way.

 

He pushed on the cellar doors, expecting there to be a padlock or something that he would need to figure his way around, but the doors opened as easily as they ever did. He braced for a fight, but when he poked his head up, he didn’t find anyone standing over the entrance waiting to attack him. He climbed the last two steps and looked around.

 

“Stiles!” He jumped at hearing his name yelled and turned his head. Allison and Danny were running towards him. Allison launched herself into his arms and said, “Thank God,” with a relieved laugh.

 

“Allison, I can’t,” he said firmly, easing her back. “I have to go.”

 

“I know,” she said, grabbing his arm when he tried to move away. “We’re going together. The horses are around front. Let’s go, come on.” She moved her grip to his hand and pulled. He ran along with her to the front of the house, where his beloved Je was waiting. He pulled himself into her saddle while Allison and Danny climbed onto their own horses.

 

“Look, maybe you two should stay here,” Stiles called over as they goading their horses around to leave the yard.

 

“Save it,” Allison called back. “There’s no way we’re staying.” They left through the gate at the same time with Danny right behind them, and she looked at him. “I remember, Stiles. I remember and they aren’t going to touch a hair on any of their heads. Especially not his.”

 

Stiles turned her around and gawked. “You remember?”

 

Allison nodded, smiling softly, and nudged her horse forward. “We don’t have time for me to explain, but yes, I do.”

 

She broke into a gallop and Stiles beamed as he nudged Je to follow.

 

They rode like the devil was on their heels, sending the remaining snow on the ground flying up with the force of their horse’s hooves. The whole time, Stiles kept Derek in mind and hoped that everyone was all right.

 

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

 

They arrived in front of the house just in time to see Jackson come scrambling out the door and down the steps, Lydia right behind him in someone’s trousers with a pair of pistols strapped to her thighs. She leapt over the steps and came running over to them. “Don’t stop, don’t stop!” she yelled, reaching up towards Stiles as she ran alongside Je. “They’re around the house! In the woods!”

 

Stiles wrapped his hand around her wrist and hauled her up. She swung up onto the back of the saddle and said, “Follow Jackson,” firmly.

 

Jackson moved fast for a lizard, and Stiles directed Je after him. Stiles pushed Je to go as fast as she could along the fence after Jackson. Lydia clung to him and Allison and Danny rode behind them as closely as they could. Stiles felt adrenaline coursing through his veins, making him tremble. Lydia was shaking too, though with adrenaline or cold, he couldn’t be sure. Je’s hooves tossed up more snow than ever.

 

Stiles hunched over the saddle horn and kicked his heels into Je’s flanks desperately. “Come on, baby. Go,” he urged. She was barely able to keep Jackson in his sight. He was afraid if he lost him, they would never find the others in time to do any good. “Go faster, Je, please.”

 

Je responded to his goading the best she could and they finally managed to be only a few feet behind Jackson. He owed her sugar cubes and apples when they got home. A lot of them.

 

Jackson suddenly turned and scrambled up a tree. Somehow, Lydia understood the action and said, “Straight ahead,” loudly. Right after she said it, they burst through two trees into a clearing filled with hunters and werewolves and found everything in chaos.

 

Erica was closest to them. She had an arrow straight through her thigh and, as Stiles pulled Je’s reigns to stop her, she ripped a crossbow from a hunter’s hand and cracked it in half across her knee. She lunged at him with her claws and Stiles had to stop watching to dismount with Lydia right behind him. Boyd roared from beside her and Stiles looked over frantically just in time to see him throw one hunter into another.

 

Stiles looked around for anyone who might need help.

 

Isaac was pinned to a tree by an arrow through his shoulder and trying to fend off a hunter looming in on him. Stiles pulled his little revolver and shot the man’s ankle, sending him collapsing in front of Isaac with a yell of pain. He ran and leapt over the hunter’s body to get to Isaac. He pinned Isaac’s shoulder more firmly to the tree so he could get more of the arrow exposed to snap it.

 

Isaac wrenched away from the arrow as soon as he could, gasping in relief, and they both started looking for people to help or opponents to face. There was no shortage of opponents, but it seemed the pack had it handled. However, Stiles quickly noticed something terrifying.

 

He couldn’t find Derek.

 

He searched the faces in the clearing but couldn’t find his. He started to panic. Before he could get too worked up, however, Scott came running up to his side and grabbed his arm. “The Argents drove Derek further into the forest. Come with me,” he said urgently. Allison ran over and Scott’s whole face went slack. Stiles smacked him on the back of the head to snap him out of it. Scott jerked in pain then asked, “What are you doing here?”

 

“Later,” Allison said firmly. “We have to stop my parents before they kill Derek.”

 

Then she grabbed Scott’s hand and pulled. Stiles followed after them with his heart pounding in his chest.

 

They ran even deeper into the woods until the sound of a gunshot had Stiles freezing in fear. He looked at Scott but found no comfort. Scott looked as terrified as he felt. He looked into Stiles’ eyes and said, “I smell blood. It’s… It’s….”

 

Stiles tore off in the direction of the shot. He didn’t need to hear Scott say it. He knew who it was.


	26. The Beast Falls

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Terribly sorry for the delay. There was a little mistake brought on by my poor communications skills and Fran's email not properly loading the file. Mostly my fault. I should have followed through. Sorry, guys.
> 
> Not a long chapter, but hopefully a good read. :) Enjoy!

Stiles ran as fast as he could, praying the shot hadn’t echoed so much that he was running in the entirely wrong direction. Scott wasn't shouting after him, however, so he took that as a sign that he was going the right way.

 

It was hard to keep up speed when he had to dodge rocks and trees. For the first time, he wished he was a werewolf, if only so he could get to Derek sooner. Finally, he saw movement ahead. Despite the extremely limited sunlight streaming through the treetops, he could tell it was Mrs. Argent; her short red hair was surprising visible.

 

He saw a glint of silver in the right position to be her hand a yelled, “HEY!” in a desperate attempt to stop her from firing another shot. She whirled towards him in surprise and fired.He leapt back just in time, the bullet striking the ground at his feet, tripping over a root, he landed, with a yelp, on his ass.

 

“Well, aren’t we clever?” Mrs. Argent angrily growled through her clenched jaw.. “How’d you get out?”

 

“Where’s Derek?” he asked, glaring up at her from his prone position on the forest floor.

 

“The Alpha?” Mrs. Argent asked, glancing over to a spot several feet away. Stiles followed her gaze and cried out in horror. Lying terrifyingly still in the deep, red snow, was Derek, Mr. Argent standing over him with his gun in hand.

 

Stiles scrambled off the ground, but before he could rise fully, Mrs. Argent pressed her gun to his temple. “Don’t even think about moving,” she warned, “Or you’ll join him.”

 

“Don’t hunters have a code?” he asked, trying desperately not to cry with fear at having Derek die. “Doesn’t it prevent you from killing without proof the werewolf has done harm?”

 

“You provided the proof when you erased our daughter’s memories,” Mrs. Argent replied heatedly.

 

“You haven’t even given us a chance to explain,” Stiles countered. “She’s my friend. You think I’d let someone erase her memories without a reason?”

 

“Covering for your pack seems like a very good reason to me,” she said, leaning in so the barrel of her gun pressed harshly into his temple. “And after your pack has been sufficiently punished, you’ll tell us why you erased her memories.”

 

“Mother!” Stiles couldn’t turn his head with the gun pressed to his skin, but the crunch of snow under Allison’s boots and her voice told him she was behind him to his right. “Mother, stop!” she pleaded. “Please, don’t hurt him!”

 

“Allison, what are you doing here?” Mr. Argent asked. Stiles heard him move away from Derek’s body towards his child.

 

Stiles took his chance. He reached up and smacked the gun away from his temple, then ran over to Derek and hit the snow beside him on his knees. Stiles tilted Derek’s head gingerly and whimpered when he immediately felt blood cover his hand.

 

He pressed his ear to Derek’s chest and heard nothing, only Allison gasping from behind him when she saw him and Derek. His heart was still, just like the rest of him. Even Derek’s hair was completely immobile, despite the slight breeze whipping through the trees. He kept his ear to his chest, just in case he had missed its comforting beat.

 

“Oh, my God,” Allison breathed. “Did you  _kill_  him?”

 

“I did,” her father answered. “Wolf’s Bane bullet straight through the temple. He’s gone.”

 

Stiles leaned his forehead to Derek’s clavicle and wailed.

 

Allison stared at her parents in absolute horror and disgust.

 

Scott’s eyes filled with tears. He threw his head back and howled.

 

Answering howls carried in chorus through the trees. Stiles hated that the first time he ever heard them howl together, they were long, mournful sounds of their shared pain and Derek wasn’t howling with them.

 

“How could you?” Allison asked when the howling stopped. “How could you do this? He didn’t do anything to me! None of them did!”

 

“If they can erase your memory, they can alter it,” her mother replied firmly.

 

“But they didn’t!” Allison told her at the same time that Scott said, “We didn’t!”

 

“That’s too dangerous! I’d never let  _anyone_  do that to Allison!” Scott added earnestly.

 

“Why? Because you “love her”? Do you think I’d buy that? You lied to her, tricked her and erased her memory. How am I supposed to believe for a second that you’d care whether something was dangerous or not?” Mrs. Argent sneered furiously at Scott and turned her gun on him. “You’re a monster! You aren’t capable of anything but destruction and death!”

 

“You’re the only ones destroying things!” Stiles suddenly yelled. Everyone but Scott turned their eyes on him. Scott wisely continued to stare at Mrs. Argent’s gun. “You  _attacked_ us! You locked me in your basement while you tried to destroy our pack! You killed…You killed our Alpha.”

 

He looked back down at Derek and more tears ran down his face. “We didn’t even do anything,” he said, stroking his hand over Derek’s head and crying even harder. “We didn’t do anything. We didn’t hurt anyone. How could you do this? How could you take him away?”

 

Scott took over as Stiles slipped back into his abyss of despair and pain, stroking Derek’s hair while he cried. “Even if we had done something, you didn’t have proof before you attacked. Derek said you had a code. What happened to that?”

 

“Don’t tell _us_ about the code.” Mrs. Argent moved towards him threateningly.

 

Before she could do anything, however, Lydia came bursting through the trees with a small, brown object clutched in her hand. She threw whatever it was on the ground and yelled, “Run!” as loudly as she could.

 

As soon as the object slammed into ground, it unleashed a huge burst of bright pink smoke that quickly covered the area around them. Stiles watched it rise up and clog the air, turning into thick fog that obstructed his vision of anything more than a foot away from him, and clutched Derek’s shirt tightly. He almost seemed to start protesting before Scott even grabbed him. “No!” he said, fighting Scott’s grip upon his shoulders desperately. “No, _no_! I’m not leaving him!”

 

“We’ll come back for him! Just  _come_   _on_!” Scott hauled him up like his struggle was nothing and dragged him through the forest after the girls. He didn’t stop dragging until there was a sizable distance between them and the Argents, but instead took hold of his hand to keep him from running off.

 

The rest of the pack met them and explained that the smoke disoriented people badly enough that they could flee. Stiles couldn’t focus on anything they were saying. All he could think about was Derek’s body lying in a clearing with the two hunters who had killed him.

 

Scott seemed to realize he wasn’t listening and grabbed his shoulders again. Stiles met his eyes with a feeling of anger and betrayal. “Stiles, I need you to focus. I know you want to go back for him, but we can’t if it means death. Derek wouldn’t want us to die trying to get his body.”

 

Stiles started to get angry and tried to yank away from Scott. What did Scott know about what Derek would want? Derek was  _his_! His love, not Scott’s. He knew that Derek would want him to do whatever he needed to feel at least a tiny bit better after his death; to cope, even a little. And there was no way Stiles could ever even begin to cope if he left Derek’s body to rot on the forest floor.

 

“Then you all go,” he snapped as Scott’s grip on his arms tightened to keep him from moving away. “I’ll do it myself.”

 

Scott leaned in and growled, “No, you won’t! I won’t betray Derek by letting you get killed!” Stiles’ eyes watered. He just wanted to bury Derek. Why couldn’t Scott understand that?  “Stiles, I know how you feel, but we need to do what we have to in order to survive. We can’t throw away Derek’s wishes just because he’s gone.”

 

Stiles clenched his eyes shut and the tears ran down his cheeks. “I just want to bury him.”

 

“We will,” Scott promised. “But not today.” Stiles opened his eyes and nodded. Scott was right. Derek wouldn’t want them to die for this, no matter how much he needed it. “All right, good. Now how do we survive?”

 

They all looked to each other for ideas.

 

“Obviously, we have to run,” Boyd said, “But do we stay together or go our separate ways and meet up somewhere?”

 

“We can’t split up,” Lydia said firmly. “If we split up, we’ll be in more danger. The werewolf is only as strong as their pack.”

 

“It wouldn’t be forever,” Boyd told her.

 

“It’s Stiles’ decision,” Erica chimed in, her voice far calmer and more steady than anyone around her. She looked to Stiles and said, “You’re Derek’s mate. It’s your choice. Do we split up and run or stay together and fight?”

 

Stiles looked at her with shock in his eyes. “But…We weren’t…”  _I never told him I loved him,_  he thought but couldn’t say. He couldn’t believe he truly hadn’t. Why hadn't he? Why didn't he tell him?

 

Erica grabbed his arm and squeezed, hard. He flinched and looked at her again. “Stiles, you’re it now. You’re Derek’s mate, no matter what was going on confession wise. So you’re our leader now. Now tell us what to do,” she growled through her clenched teeth.

 

“I’m Derek’s mate,” he repeated softly, not really speaking to anyone around him, but more to himself. He looked around at his pack and resolve filled him. “I’m Derek’s mate,” he said firmly, nodding. “And I know that he would want us to do whatever it takes to keep everyone alive.”

 


	27. The Escape

Stiles delivered his orders and the pack dispersed. He, Lydia, and Danny ran for the horses. They were forced to fight any hunters in their way to get close enough to mount them, but they were there quickly. Though Lydia was too short to easily mountAllison’s gentle stallion, they managed to get going before the hunters recovered from their sudden attack. As they rode from the clearing, the wolves came out of the trees to prevent anyone from following them.

 

Their goal was the house. They were aiming to get the sleigh and – hopefully – a supply of food so they could go further without stopping.

 

Melissa had been left to defend the house after Lydia and Jackson left and she came rushing out to meet them. “I heard howling,” she panted. She still had her gun in her hands and she was trembling. Being left alone to worry obviously hadn’t agreed with her. “Is someone hurt?”

 

“Later,” Stiles said, sliding off Je without waiting for her to stop. “Get the sleigh ready!” he called to Lydia and Danny. He took hold of Melissa’s elbow and looked back towards the forest to see if they had been followed. It appeared the wolves had done their job. He pulled her back into the house. "We’re running. Get all the money you can, I’m gonna pack food. Try and get some clothes for everyone; all the winter clothes you can fit in a trunk.”

 

Melissa accepted his leadership without hesitation and rushed to follow the orders. He ran to the kitchen to get food. He stuffed everything and anything into four baskets and grabbed jars to fill with water. He hauled them out to the barn and Danny loaded them into the storage under the benches. Then he and Danny helped Melissa with the trunk she had packed; they loaded that onto the shelf on the back of the sleigh. Melissa and Lydia went to fill a couple of the water jars.

 

They hooked Cam and Allison’s stallion to the sleigh because they were the strongest and fastest. Danny questioned nothing, the wonderful man he was, and they had the sleigh ready in mere moments. Lydia and he had done wonderful preparation for the horses and even loaded a little bale of hay for them.

 

“Are we ready?” Stiles asked when everyone finished their tasks. Lydia climbed on the back of her horse and Melissa took the reins for the sleigh. Stiles climbed on Je, then pulled out the dog whistle – the one Melissa kept to break up fights with when Lydia wasn’t around to scream – and blew as hard as he could.

 

They flew out of the barn and down the drive, going as fast as the horses could gallop. Stiles blew the whistle twice more. They reached the turn towards the road just in time for the rest of the pack to come running out of the woods, hunters hot on their heels.

 

Scott and Isaac grabbed Allison under her arms and lifted her into the sleigh so they wouldn’t have to pause. Erica timed her leap perfectly so she could haul Alison safely out of their grip and into the sleigh by the waist. Allison scrambled to get steady on the bench and notch an arrow. Erica and Isaac worked together to drag Boyd up into the sleigh too. He was injured; bleeding profusely from an arrow that had gone straight through his stomach to his back. Stiles saw blood running from his mouth as well. Erica looked terrified and held him tightly.

 

They needed to go faster. “Let’s go!” Stiles screamed, “Everyone in the sleigh!”

 

He was immediately obeyed; even by Jackson, who appeared from nowhere with blood all over his scales and claws. “Jackson!” Stiles yelled, an idea suddenly popping into his head. “Jackson, stop them! Paralyze everyone! Do it now!”

 

Jackson hissed, either in irritation at being bossed around or in agreement, and leapt off the back of the sleigh. Lydia looked back like she wanted to wait for him but Stiles leaned over and slapped her mount’s rear so it would pay no mind to her lack of direction and just keep running. She looked furious. He refused to feel even the least bit sorry, Jackson was a giant lizard with paralytic toxins in his claws. He would be just fine.

 

She, however, only had a gun. She needed to keep moving.

 

He cast glances over his shoulder at Jackson, watching him take down one hunter after another. They all collapsed in the snow with barely a knick to their flesh. When each was down, Stiles pulled Je to a halt. Jackson terrified her, but she allowed him to scramble up and drape himself awkwardly over the back of her saddle.

 

Then they raced to catch up with the others.

 

“ALLISON!” they heard Victoria Argent scream. “NO! ALLISON!”

 

But Allison didn’t even look at her. She focused instead on climbing dangerously onto the driver’s bench with Melissa. She said something that Stiles couldn’t hear as Jackson leapt from Je’s back onto the sled again. If a giant lizard could seem pleased, he probably did. Je ran faster without the extra weight and stress.

 

Other than the sound of the horses’ hooves and the snow being tossed up around them, nothing could be heard but the screams coming from Allison’s mother and father.

 

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

 

The horses had to stop. They were exhausted. They pulled off the rode into the forest and, while Scott and Isaac rushed to hide their tracks, they fed the horses hay and sugar and collected snow in a large bowl to melt for them to drink.

 

Erica was finally able to clean and dress Boyd’s wounds. “They must have coated the arrows with something,” she told Stiles when he came to check on them. She was still seated on the floor of the sleigh with her love cradled in her arms. Boyd was unconscious, cringing with pain every so often. “Did Lydia bring anything?”

 

“Lydia?” Stiles called, turning to look for the little redhead. She was using snow to wash dirt and blood from her and Jackson’s hands. She lifted her head at his call. “Do you have anything for Boyd?”

 

She rose and took his spot beside the sleigh to tend to the injured wolf.

 

Isaac and Scott returned. Isaac went to clean himself up with snow too, while Scott came to report. “All clear. There’s no sign of us now. We went all the way back to that fork and smudged everything. Plus, it looks like we’ll get a nice new layer of snow any minute now.”

 

“Can you hear anything?” Stiles asked.

 

“No heartbeats but ours for miles,” Scott assured him. “They must’ve fallen too far behind. It’ll be a while before they catch up, if they do.”

 

“They wouldn’t leave the rest of them to die of hypothermia in the snow,” Allison said from where she was tending to Cam and her stallion. She fed them each a handful of the packed hay and rubbed their snouts. “They’ll be delayed by that too.”

 

“Good,” Stiles said. He took a deep breath and released it slowly. “Then for now, we got away; time to think of a plan.” He leaned on the side of the sleigh and everyone who wasn’t busy with Boyd gathered around.

 

“What about your father, Stiles?” Melissa asked worriedly. “Should we go back for him?”

 

“Dad will be fine,” he said, shaking his head. “He’s the sheriff. Even if they wanted to use him to lure us back, they can’t. Too many people would notice.” He hoped, at least. “We’ll send him a letter when we get somewhere safe. Let him know not to worry, make sure he’s okay.”

 

“Maybe we should catch a boat to Europe,” Danny suggested suddenly. Everyone looked at him in surprise. “What? Just because I don’t know everything, doesn’t mean I don’t understand. We’re running, you guys are all a different species, and we need to get as far away as possible. Europe is pretty damn far.”

 

“We can’t disguise ourselves well enough for a boat,” Isaac said, running his hand through his curls. He looked overwhelmed. “Eventually, people would start asking questions about us wearing winter hats and covering our mouths with scarfs.”

 

“Not if we found a boat owned by someone like us,” Scott chimed in. “Mom, do you know any of Derek’s contacts who might be able to help us?”

 

“No,” Melissa said, shaking her head. “Not one with a boat, at least. I know someone up in New York though.” She wrapped her arms around herself to keep warm and said, “A whole pack that was involved in the Hales’ business. Derek’s still in contact with them. They’re good people and the Alpha is very well connected. We could probably settle in there. The Argents wouldn’t dare start a war with that pack.”

 

Stiles nodded. “New York is a week away. We’ll need more supplies than we have. How much money did you grab?”

 

While he and Melissa went to see, Isaac looked at Danny. “Are you hurt?” he asked, moving closer. Danny shook his head. “Good,” Isaac said, looking down at the snow with a little relieved smile. “And you…You’re okay with everything? Are you really confused?”

 

“Not really,” Danny told him, shrugging. “I understand the gist of it, so it’s not really scary or anything. I’m a little confused why we’re being chased, but other than that.” He shrugged again. Isaac nodded. Danny frowned at him slightly. “You know, you seem familiar. You have great eyes.”

 

“Thanks, I guess. Yellow isn’t really a normal eye color but –”

 

“No, not those eyes,” Danny interrupted while Isaac shifted around bashfully. “Your blue ones.”

 

“Blue? I don’t have…Wait, did I kill someone?” Isaac balked in horror and Lydia turned her head to scold him for being so dramatic about killing someone who was likely attempting to kill him; only to stop and end up staring at him in shock.

 

“Stiles, look at Isaac.” Stiles, alarmed by her tone, nearly tripped over himself obeying. He too ended up frozen, gawking at Isaac like he’d grown a second head. And he might as well have, since the face staring at them was definitely new.

 

Gone was the pinched up brow that lacked any actually eyebrows, the overly enthusiastic sideburns determined to take over his entire face, the frightfully yellow eyes, and the severely pointed ears even his curls couldn’t hide. Instead, his face was clean shaven, revealing cheekbones to kill and a strong jaw. His eyes were blue and frightened and his eyebrows were thin but very much present. He looked completely human.

 

“Oh my God,” Stiles muttered. “Isaac, you shifted.” Isaac looked at him and his eyes grew even wider. He looked down at his hands for his claws but found they weren’t there. He reached up and found curved, human ears where his pointed ones used to be. He ran his tongue over his teeth and didn’t cut it.

 

“I shifted,” he finally breathed after his inspection. “I didn’t even notice. But I shifted.” He grinned and looked at Stiles happily. “I shifted!”

 

“Okay, yes,” Stiles said quickly, pressing a finger to his own lips. “Happy, happy. That’s great, but you still have to be quiet.” Isaac flushed. Stiles was relieved to find the puppy look hadn’t changed much, but unhappy to find it twice as effective without the sharp fangs.

 

Stiles looked around. “Can anyone else do that?” he asked.

 

“I can,” came a voice he had never heard before. “I can also freeze to death. Would you like to see that too?”

 

A completely naked young man came around from the other side of the sleigh. No one seemed to recognize him, until Lydia cried, “Jackson!” and leapt off the sleigh to throw herself at him. He had sandy blonde hair and was thin and not much taller than his love. He definitely wasn’t the lizard they were accustomed to, yet Lydia seemed certain he was really Jackson. She pressed kisses all over his face and squeezed him tightly, not bothered at all by his nudity.

 

Jackson finally put a stop to the embrace; pushing her back to arm’s length and hissing, “Lydia, I’m naked!”

 

Lydia rolled her eyes and pulled the cloak from her shoulders. “Honestly, you act like it’s cold out.”

 

Jackson glared at her.

 

Scott tapped Stiles on the shoulder. Stiles looked at him and reeled back in surprise. Scott was human too! He was all brown eyes and a fangless grin and Stiles didn’t know what to do with him and his adorable expression. “I can do it too. Isn’t that awesome? I look human!”

 

“Does no one here understand how to be quiet?” Stiles asked, grinning right back. He was really happy for his friend. And yet, he wondered about Derek. How could the curse be broken? The only way was for someone to love Derek, in spite of his appearance and his species. And while Stiles had finally admitted his love to himself, Derek was still dead. His death should have cemented the curse, not broken it.

 

Unless…Unless Derek gave up his life for his pack. Unless Derek proved to the curse that a werewolf could love just as – if not more – deeply as a human. Unless he let Mr. Argent put the gun to his head without a fight and died so his pack could be safe.

 

As Melissa cried upon seeing her son’s human face once more, he fought his own tears. He couldn’t believe it. His Derek, his wonderful Derek, was dead. He had died for them. He put his head in his hands and dropped to his knees. Isaac dropped down beside him and nervously wrapped him in his arms. He was probably confused, poor kid. But Stiles couldn’t clear his throat to explain. All he could do was sob and grieve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm gonna be honest, I was tempted to mark this the last chapter, just to scare people.


	28. The Doctor

With the werewolves able to shift, the possibilities for fleeing were endless. And yet, when the horses were sufficiently rested, no one moved to go. They all stood around their little spot in the woods in silence. Whether they were thinking the same thing was yet to be seen, but the silence was heavy, like they all had something to say but were too hesitant to actually say it.

 

Finally, Isaac spoke. “If we go to New York, we won’t be able to bury Derek.”

 

“Everything he’s done for us…He deserves to be buried. We can’t leave him in the woods to rot,” Scott said firmly. Stiles looked at him and could only nod.

 

 “But we can’t go back,” Erica reminded them, holding Boyd to her breast still, even though he was able to sit up with his wound now fully healed; he didn’t seem to mind using her as a pillow even if he was well.

 

Stiles couldn’t get over how innocent and pretty she looked when she wasn’t wolfed out. And scared. It was much easier to see her fear when her eyes weren’t glowing yellow. It was easier to read everyone’s expressions now. They all looked sad, scared, and lost.

 

He felt the same way.

 

“So we don’t,” he finally said, after another long silence. Not a single person looked okay with that. In fact, most of them looked furious at him for even suggesting it. “Not all of us anyway,” he amended quickly. “Just me and two others. The rest of you find somewhere to make camp and hide. After we bury him, we’ll come back.”

 

“I should go with you,” Scott said immediately. “I know where his family’s buried. He’d want to be with them.” Stiles nodded his agreement. “Who else?” Scott asked, looking for volunteers.

 

Boyd started to raise his hand to volunteer but Erica grabbed it to stop him. “You’re in no shape to dig a grave. You need rest,” she said firmly. “I’ll go.”

 

“No offense, Erica, but I think you should stay here with Boyd,” Isaac said. “You’re not going to be able to focus with him still here.”

 

Erica looked like she wanted to argue, but Stiles quickly intervened. “He’s right. We need to be quick and stealthy. If you’re worrying about Boyd, you won’t be either. Plus, you didn’t see his body.” He looked down and bit his lip in hope of keeping back the tears he shouldn’t still have. All the crying he had done already should have left him bone-dry yet his eyes filled again. “It’s not easy to see him and not get upset.”

 

He shook his head and gathered enough strength to look at everyone again. “Scott and I will be enough. The rest of you stay and get a camp set up for the night. We’ll head for New York in the morning.”

 

Everyone nodded, even if they didn’t look like they agreed with just him and Scott going. Scott nudged him gently and said, “You’d better ride on my back. It’ll go faster that way.”

 

“If you drop me,” Stiles warned, pushing off from the sleigh where he was leaning on it and moving around as Scott crouched to make it easier on him, “I will kick you in the balls.”

 

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

 

They went first to the house. Stiles slid off Scott’s back outside the fence and Scott found a hole in the bricking to peer through. Stiles chewed his lip anxiously while Scott checked for hunters. “No heartbeats around the house,” Scott assured him after a couple painful moments. “Let’s get the shovels.”

 

He easily vaulted over the fence while Stiles awkwardly climbed over. They kept low and practically sprinted to the barn. They took two shovels and Stiles stole a plank of scrap wood. Scott looked confused, but they didn’t dare risk talking.

 

Scott helped him over the fence so he could hand Stiles their shovels and wood without dropping them. He then climbed over himself. Almost as soon as he did so, he heard heartbeats getting closer. He grabbed Stiles and pulled him into a snow covered shrub. The heartbeats didn’t come around to them but instead moved to the front of the house where Scott heard them talk about how big of a waste of time they believed guarding the house to be.

 

They snatched the shovels and wood up again and ran as quietly as they could to the little forest graveyard where Scott knew the rest of the Hales lay waiting. It was secluded and had magic around it to prevent any unwelcome visitors from finding it. He had only been to it a couple times before. Once to bury Laura and again to bury Peter. Even after all his crimes, Derek insisted he be buried as a Hale.

 

Derek had his own spot, morbidly enough. When he and Laura created the little graveyard, they had left space for themselves and Peter. Laura was in her space and Peter was in his. Scott knelt down at the foot of Derek’s space and Stiles looked at the opening curiously. “This is his,” Scott told him. “They left room so they could be with their parents when they died.”

 

Stiles nodded and looked at the headstones to the left of Derek’s plot. “I’m sorry he’s going in it so soon.”

 

This time, Scott nodded. Then he stood up and got his grip on the handle so he could start digging. “Six feet down, right?”

 

“Six feet down, three feet across, and a little more than six feet lengthwise,” Stiles confirmed. They started to dig together, carefully depositing the dirt so they could fill the grave in later. It was hard work. The ground was frozen in some places and nearly impossible to break in others. But they kept going, determined to get Derek his spot next to his sister.

 

When they finally had a grave, Stiles took the scrap wood and had Scott carefully break it to the right height. Then he pulled out his pocket knife and carved, “Derek Hale,” into the wood. He didn’t carve dates, since he wasn’t sure when Derek’s birth year was. Instead, he carved “Beloved,” under Derek’s name. Scott watched him and smiled approvingly.

 

He drove it into the ground at the head of the grave when he was finished and stood up. “Let’s get his body,” he said.

 

Scott nodded. They left their shovels and Scott led the way. Even though nothing caused an alert in Scott’s senses, they walked as quietly as possible. They didn’t dare speak. Not until they reached the clearing where Derek had died.

 

They found it completely empty.

 

No body, no hunters…even the pouch Lydia had thrown was gone. All that remained to prove they were in the right spot was the puddle of blood Derek had been in when they left.

 

“Where is he?” Stiles questioned. Scott shushed him but his anger only increased. “Why would they take his body?” he asked. He was angry, sad, and extremely disappointed. Were they going to have to fight again just to bury their Alpha?

 

“I don’t know,” Scott answered solemnly. He walked to the blood and knelt down beside it. With a grimace, he dug a leave out from within and brought it to his nose to sniff. “I can track him with this though.”

 

Stiles raised his eyebrows at Scott. “You realize that I knelt there a few hours ago, right? You could’ve just torn a piece off my jacket or something.”

 

Scott looked at his leaf and flushed. “Well, your clothes had your scent too. It’d be harder to track him.”

 

“Uh-huh,” Stiles said, nodding like he agreed just to spare poor Scott from any more embarrassment.  Scott, of course, knew he was faking it. He started walking with a gesture for Stiles to follow. Stiles couldn’t help but smile as he followed along.

 

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

 

The trail led to a glorified shack. There was no other way to describe it. Even Stiles’ little two room house was bigger. It didn’t look defensible either. There was no way the hunters were using it as a base.

 

“Two heartbeats,” Scott confirmed. “Derek’s body is inside. We should move quickly and get him so whoever’s in there can’t call for reinforcements.”

 

Stiles definitely agreed. He had already started loading his gun. He spun the compartment and nodded. “Okay. Let’s go.”

 

They kept low to the ground as they moved to the little building. Scott let him open the door and quickly regretted it. The door creaked and squeaked and they both cringed. Stiles felt Scott glaring daggers at his back.

 

Stiles stepped into the little house and quickly looked around for the owners of the heartbeats Scott had heard. There wasn’t much inside. Just a tiny fireplace with a table in front of it that was only big enough for two chairs, some shelves on the wall across from the door, and a rug against the wall across from the fireplace. The shelves were well stocked with jars of powders, leaves, and what looked like anything else that would fit. The rug was under a small bed. And on the bed, Derek’s body was laid out.

 

A dark skinned man stood over the table, working with some jars of powder, leaves, and strange liquids. He didn’t bother turning around. “Come in, please, and shut the door. You’re letting all the heat out.”

 

Stiles stepped in and Scott followed. They shut the door and watched the stranger suspiciously. He still didn’t turn, instead focusing on stirring together his strange ingredients. “You’re not a hunter.” The stranger shook his head. “Why did you steal Derek’s body then?”

 

“I stole nothing,” he replied. He took his medicine bowl to the fire and tipped it into the pot hanging inside. “He was left. I honestly wasn’t sure you’d be back.”

 

“We weren’t going to leave him to rot,” Stiles snapped defensively. “We’d never do that.”

 

“Not intentionally,” the man agreed. “But you’d have to think about what he would want. And it wouldn’t be for you all to die trying to bury him.”

 

“How would you know that?” Stiles asked. “How would you know anything about Derek? Who are you?”

 

The man stirred his pot calmly. “I don’t appreciate being snapped at, Stiles.” Stiles had to remind himself that trying to strangle whoever this was would not get their answers. Not only did this stranger know Derek, apparently, he knew Stiles too. “I’ve been with the Hales for decades. I first worked with Derek’s mother. My father worked with Talia’s father. They take care of us, we take care of them.”

 

He finally turned to face them. Stiles was almost surprised by how ordinary he looked. He didn’t have a single extraordinary feature. He was just a calm-looking man about the same age as Stiles’ father.

 

“We found each other through my grandfather. The Hales have never believed in slavery. They bought my father when he was a young man and, rather than simply keeping him as free labor, they hired him. Paid him, allowed him to sleep in one of the spare bedrooms instead of the kitchen floor, and when he fell in love with his later wife, they purchased her from her master so the two could be together. That alone creates a deep sense of loyalty. Finding out they were werewolves only heightened it.”

 

While a great backstory, it honestly answered nothing. He still hadn’t told them who he was.  And yet, Scott inhaled sharply, like he knew. Stiles cast a quick look at him. “You’re Deaton,” he said, looking absolutely amazed. “Mom never told me you were this close.”

 

He looked at Stiles and, thankfully, provided an excellent explanation. “Deaton is our emissary, remember? He made the potions to change your memories.”

 

Stiles did remember. He couldn’t believe Scott had realized before he did, but he remembered. “So what’re you doing? If you’re Derek’s ally, why didn’t you just take him and bury him? Why bring him back here?”

 

“Because burying him would do more harm than good,” Deaton replied.

 

Stiles really wanted to strangle him now. He was so pissed off, so irritated by the lack of answers, and he really hoped Deaton realized just how shitty he was for keeping them confused and in the dark. He gestured but Deaton stayed quiet. Stiles bit his tongue to try and keep from yelling at him. “You maybe wanna explain why?”

 

Deaton’s eyebrow twitched up a bit, but he didn’t appear phased by Stiles sniping at him at all. He looked at Scott and said, “This house only has one room. Please count the heartbeats in it.”

 

Scott took a second to listen. Then he looked up and glanced between Deaton and Stiles with wide eyes. Stiles waited impatiently for him to say something. Instead, Deaton said, “How many heartbeats, Scott?”

 

“Four.”


	29. The Hope

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, apparently I can't function as a writer and a college student. I'm terribly sorry. I hope everyone enjoys the update.

“Four?” Stiles repeated. “You mean…” He looked at Derek’s body and his own heartbeat grew rapid and stuttering with hope. “But he got shot in the head.” He turned away from Deaton and Scott and walked to Derek’s prone form. He didn’t look alive either. He was so pale and his normally overheated body was cold to the touch. He didn’t even look like he was breathing. Stiles put his hand gently on Derek’s chest and watched.

 

To his surprise, it actually rose and fell.

 

“He…He felt dead,” he said quietly. How could he have missed that?

 

“It took some effort just to get him breathing that much,” Deaton told him. “You wouldn’t have noticed before.”

 

Stiles very carefully turned Derek’s head to look at his wound. The blood was drying and crusting around it. The actual bullet hole wasn’t very big, but it wasn’t healing. The skin on that side of his head looked wretched. The skin was discolored and got worse closer to the wound. Some of the skin around the wound looked like it was flaking off.

 

“He doesn’t look like he’s healing,” he told Deaton.

 

“He’s not. And he won’t without my help.” Deaton came over and pointed at the frightful skin on Derek’s face. “This kind of discoloration is indicative of a very deadly species of wolf’s bane. If Derek wasn’t an Alpha, he wouldn’t be able to fight it like this. He would’ve been dead hours ago.”

 

Stiles was honestly a little disgusted by Derek’s discolored and peeling skin, but he ignored it and put his hands on Derek’s jaw. “I’m glad he’s an Alpha then,” he muttered as he moved closer to press his forehead to Derek’s. “Will he wake up?”

 

“No,” Deaton replied. Stiles started to feel devastation rising in his chest again, but Deaton continued. “I’ve given him a sedative. Being unconscious usually helps the healing process. And what I need to do to help him heal will be incredibly painful.”

 

Stiles straightened up and held Derek’s hand in his. “What’re you going to do?”

 

“Well, first I need to raise his internal temperature. You boys could help with that, actually. Is there any way you could sneak into the Hale house and get blankets? I don’t have enough here.” He looked between Scott and Stiles expectantly, but neither boy looked particularly eager to go steal past the hunters and then try to make it back without a tail and with as many blankets as they could carry.

 

Stiles looked at Scott and shrugged. “If it’ll help save Derek,” he said, “I’ll do anything. Are you up for it?”

 

“Yeah,” Scott replied, sighing. “But not with you. I’ll go alone. I can move faster and more quietly that way.”

 

Stiles hated the idea of Scott going alone, but he couldn’t deny the truth of it. He was a horrible sneak and, obviously, had no chance of being fast enough to keep up with Scott. So Scott left and Stiles was left alone with Deaton. He stood beside the bed and fidgeted uncomfortably. Deaton watched him, seemingly without blinking, and Stiles was left very unnerved. The older man didn’t seem to care. He just kept staring. Finally, Stiles turned away to look at Derek again.

 

He took up his hand and pressed it to his cheek. He was so very cold. Stiles kept his hand clutched tightly in his own in hopes of warming it. “I’m glad Scott was the one to go. I need someone here who can soothe Derek for the next part.”

 

And wow, didn’t that sound ominous. Stiles looked at Deaton but didn’t really expect any explanation or answers. Deaton turned back to his table and the pot in the fireplace. Stiles glanced at him; he was mostly focused on Derek.

 

He still couldn’t believe it. Derek was _alive_. Yes, he was struggling, but he was alive. And Deaton claimed he could help him. If he really could, Derek would come back. He would come back and open his eyes and Stiles would finally see what color they were. Finally know how gorgeous they looked.

 

He could have slid Derek’s eyelids open and seen their color now, but they wouldn’t have any light. They wouldn’t be alive and awake and full of love. Stiles caressed his jaw and leaned down to kiss his lips softly. “I thought I lost you.”

 

“He’s not out of the woods yet,” Deaton reminded him. “Please don’t get your hopes up.”

 

Stiles leaned down and kissed Derek again. “Don’t listen to him. You’re too strong not to come back from this.”

 

“You’re the one who’s going to need to be strong.” Deaton approached the bed with a tray in his hands. He placed it on the bedside table and turned up the oil lamp. “You’ll need to comfort him, keep him as still as possible.” He glanced up from uncorking the various jars on his tray and said, “You’re not squeamish, are you?”

 

“Depends on what you’re planning to do,” Stiles replied, eyeing the tray warily. He held Derek’s hand tightly, more than ready to protect the currently defenseless Alpha.

 

“I need to remove the bullet, clean as much wolf’s bane out as I can, and rub wolf’s bane ash into the wound. It’s not going to be pleasant for him and it won’t be a pretty process.”

 

He wasn’t kidding. Stiles flinched watching him try to dig the bullet from Derek’s head. It made his stomach churn, even though he couldn’t really see the wound from where he stood. So he held Derek’s hand to his lips and kept his eyes firmly glued to Derek’s face instead, looking for any sign of pain. He started to see crinkling around his eyes; like he was grimacing. He looked at Deaton warningly.

 

The older man reached over and passed him an uncomfortably large hypodermic needle. “Give him this. It’s a sedative.”

 

Stiles eyed it fearfully. “I can’t do that. I’ve never used a needle before. And I hate them.”

 

“It’s either you do it or he wakes up,” Deaton replied firmly. “I have the bullet gripped. I can’t lose it to give him the sedative.”

 

Stiles swallowed heavily and finally took the needle from Deaton before he could change his mind. He let go of Derek’s hand to position the needle on his arm. Again his stomach squirmed uncomfortably.

 

“Make sure to get it into a vein or it’ll be useless.” Deaton didn’t even bother looking over. Stiles glared at him.

 

He squeezed and pressed on Derek’s arm, looking for a pop of blue under his skin. He tried not to focus on the needle as much as how much Derek needed the sedative, but he really hated the idea of sticking the damn thing in Derek. He almost stopped, wishing for Scott to come back and do it for him.

 

“Which is stronger? Your love for Derek or your disdain for needles?” Deaton suddenly asked.

 

Stiles didn’t even bother looking up to glare at him. He glared instead at the bright blue line that had finally revealed itself while he pressed the needle down into it. When he finally pushed the sedative out through the needle and could discard it, he was immensely pleased. He dropped the horrible little contraption onto Deaton’s tray and wiped a tiny drop of blood from Derek’s arm.

 

To his surprise, the wound didn’t heal right away. It stayed there, just like it would in Stiles’ arm. He frowned again as more blood welled up. “Sorry, Derek.”

 

“Get a towel and wipe it up.”

 

Stiles returned to giving Deaton dirty looks.

 

Scott came tumbling through the door a few minutes later, a stack of blankets clutched in his hands. “No one saw me,” he reassured them before they could even begin to worry about it. He dropped the pile on Derek’s feet and looked to see what Deaton was doing. His face immediately twisted with disgust. “What the hell? You have a tool in his head!”

 

“Don’t look,” Stiles urged. “It’s gross.”

 

“Cover him up, please. I’m almost done.” He finally pulled the bullet free and dropped it with a clatter onto the tray. “He’ll heal faster if his body temperature is back to normal.”

 

“He was in the snow for a while. Is that going to hurt his recovery?” Stiles asked worriedly, reaching over to start unfolding blankets.

 

“It shouldn’t. Now hurry up and get him covered,” Deaton instructed sternly. Stiles and Scott quickly unfolded and placed each blanket on top of Derek’s body, then tucked them around him until he was thoroughly cocooned. Stiles rested one of his hands on the shape of Derek’s arm and used the other to touch his cheek and get his temperature, for a comparison point down the road.

 

Deaton took herbs from his veils after studying the bullet remnants for a few moments and lit them with a match. He blew the flame out when they turned to ash and brushed it into his hands. Stiles peeked to watch him rub the ash into Derek’s wound. Then he took a cloth from his tray and covered the wound. “Now it’s up to him.” Stiles looked down at Derek’s eyes again. “Let’s hope your faith in him proves just.”

 

Scott moved in while Deaton walked away to go clean his hands. “Should I run to tell the others?”

 

Stiles had already been thinking about that. He only took a second to shake his head. “They’re under orders not to come after us and they’ll honor that.” He rubbed his hand up the shape of Derek’s arm and said, “And they don’t need to know about him yet. I don’t want them getting their hopes up just to have them dashed if he can’t pull through. They don’t deserve that.”

 

Scott reluctantly agreed.

 

••••••••••••••••••••••••••

 

Stiles pressed his hand to Derek’s cheek again. He was still cold. He wished desperately that they could move him closer to the fire, but Deaton had already said that it was a bad idea to try and move him even a little, let alone across the room. He and Scott were keeping the flames nice and strong so the shack would be plenty warm though; nearing hot even, but Derek was still cold as the snow he had been shot in.

 

“Maybe you should climb in with him,” Scott suggested when he noticed Stiles’ renewed worry. Stiles looked over at him. “You know, share body heat?”

 

He looked at Derek again and shook his head. “I know what you meant. I was just thinking that maybe you would be a better option there. You’re temperature is much higher than mine.”

 

“But you’re the source of comfort,” Deaton reminded them both. “You’re the better option, to use your own phrase.” Stiles nodded and toed out of his shoes. Scott took his jacket and held back the stack of blankets so Stiles could climb onto the bed and press into Derek’s side. Then he tucked them around both of their bodies. Stiles lied across Derek’s chest, head to his too slow heart and hand clutching the bicep he wasn’t lying on.

 

Scott added Stiles’ jacket and his own to the pile on top of them. “Well? Warm?”

 

“Toasty,” Stiles replied, burrowing into Derek and the blankets. “He’ll warm up quickly, I’m sure. There’s no way he couldn’t.” Scott nodded, looking pleased, and walked away to stoke the fire.

 

Stiles pressed his entire body to Derek’s, as close as possible so maybe they could just fuse together and Derek could steal Stiles’ heat entirely. He whispered, “Hurry up and wake up,” into Derek’s shoulder. “Please.”


End file.
